Not Making the Same Mistake Again
by J.D. Toulouse
Summary: Less than four months remain of the school year, for some students it's the last four months at William McKinley High. Therefore it's natural for the kids to want to make the best of the remaining time. However, a lot of things can go wrong in sixteen weeks . . . Multi-character fanfic with focus on Fabrevans, Finchel, the Unholy Trinity, Puck/Sam-friendship.
1. You're the Voice

Not Making the Same Mistake Again

Summary: Less than four months remain of the school year, for some students it's the last four months at William McKinley High. Therefore it's natural for the kids to want to make the best of the remaining time. However, a lot of things can go wrong in sixteen weeks . . .

Rated Teen for language primarily. There may be some spoilers for the two first seasons of the show as well as the third up until somewhere short after the episode _Hold on to Sixteen_.

I hope you will enjoy reading this multi-character fanfiction as much as I have enjoyed writing it!

I apologize in advance for any incorrect grammar or typo that may occur.

Reviews are very welcome.

Disclaimer: I do_ not_ own _Glee_ nor do I own any of its characters. The same goes for anything involving the music mentioned.

End of author's note. Now on to the story!

* * *

_Prologue_

What happens when you realize that you've only got a semester left of you high school time? That you've got less than half a year to make things right and to make sure that when you are gone people will still remember who you were and what you achieved. Who doesn't want to have their children point at them in the Thunderclap and say 'That's my mom/dad!' with a proud voice?

But is it possible to create an image to be remembered for in less than four months? To become popular, break up with that squirt you may be dating, reconcile with your high school sweetheart, make up with your best friend that you broke up with last year and ditch the loser that you are hanging out with at the point?

And is it possible to do all of this while keeping straight A's or at least B's or maybe C's so that you can have a decent shot at getting into the college you have applied for?

But most importantly; can you do all this while fighting for a win at Sectionals, Regionals and Nationals?

Or does fate have other things in mind for you? Or maybe God wants to have a finger in the pie? If he exists . . . And more likely: what will Sue Sylvester do to dash your way?

* * *

_Chapter 1 –_ _You are the voice_

[Monday]

It is already a few weeks into the new year, but still everything feels just like it did a couple of months ago. Like total crap.

It is funny how you always tend to think that things will change—often for the better—just because it is a new year coming. As if a new year automatically means a fresh_ new_ start.

Lucy Quinn Fabray should have known better. She is a clever girl and therefore she should definitely have known better. Especially since she has made the same mistake year after year—wishing for something better—and always ending up screwing things up.

For freshman year she had wished for popularity and prosperity, which she had indeed gotten. She became the school's most popular girl, the one at the top of the food chain. She was untouchable.

Sadly nothing lasts forever . . .

Her expectations for sophomore year had been pretty much the same. And yet again her wishes and hopes had been fulfilled, though only for her to lose a few months into the first semester when she found out she was pregnant. She had had everything, she had been the head cheerleader of the Cheerios, she was the prettiest girl in school and everybody parted as the Red Sea when she walked through the halls of William McKinley High School, she had dated the hottest boy in school—well, perhaps the second hottest boy after Noah Puckerman—and the quarterback of the school's football team, Finn Hudson. She had everything she had wished for and then came Glee Club, and Rachel Berry and Finn, which led to jealousy, wine coolers and a one-night stand with Puck. And somewhere along that line she screwed up her life completely.

For junior year she had wished for the same things, popularity and prosperity, but she had also wished for love. Regaining her popularity hadn't been hard as she had almost immediately been accepted back on the cheerleading squad and with that came automatic prosperity. But then came that blonde, new kid, Sam Evans. He swept her off her feet and told her that he would forever love her, and God had she believed him! Unfortunately though, being Quinn Fabray means you cannot ever settle with what you already have . . . and so the hunt had been on. Prom king and queen, Finn and a stupid kiss had ruined yet another perfect year.

Her wishes for this year, the last semester of her senior year, had been pretty much the same though, except for the _love_ part. And so far, well, she hasn't screwed up completely – if you don't count her joining the Skanks short after summer break and her desperate attempt at getting Beth back or her asking Puck to give her a new baby, then she hasn't screwed up completely.

Problem is; there's a lot of time left for it . . .

Being normal Quinn again, well as_ normal_ as the "old Quinn" could be considered, felt kind of good. It didn't just feel good because she had actually hated that pink tousled hair she had sported or that disgusting nose ring, it felt good because now looking like the old Quinn, the beautiful blonde Quinn, she would actually have a decent chance at enjoying her senior year at McKinley High.

Her last year had been, well, both amazing and horrifying, pretty much like her sophomore year. One hell of a ride of ups and downs . . .

Walking down the crowded hall of McKinley High School's main building, Quinn catches sight of an oh so familiar face. A wide toothy smile spreads across her face as she sees the boy wave at her and she quickens her steps to catch up with him.

'Oh my gosh, Quinn! You look _fa-bu-lous_!' the boy greats her as he leans forward and plants a kiss on each side of her face. 'Is that a _Ralph Lauren?_'

She giggles at his loud comments and shakes her head quickly. 'No, Kurt, it's not. It's just a cheap look-alike I bought in France.'

He shoots her one of his characteristic _you better not be tricking me, honey_-looks before he goes back to admiring her dress. 'Oh my God! It looks _so _authentic!'

She smiles. 'They did a good job.'

'They sure did, honey. Delicious.'

She giggles once again. 'Thank you, Kurt.'

He bows—an odd gesture for him—and hooks his arm with hers. 'May I?'

'Yeah,' she snickers. Having Kurt Hummel asking to escort you to your next class is flattering really. Not because he is a great singer and has awesome taste in fashion, but because he is the sweetest and most caring guy at school.

'So tell me, honey, what more beautiful fashion did you bring home?'

'Oh God, a lot! You should have seen the boutiques!' she says, thinking about the never ending streets filled with small clothing shops.

The statement causes Kurt to giggle, a not too uncommon reaction from his side. But he stops quickly as he is bumped into by a bypassing boy.

'Quinn, Lance Bass,' the other guy says.

'You're such a loser, Puck!' Quinn exclaims as the bump-in was obviously intended.

The well-toned boy throws her an air kiss and spins around and starts to walk away.

'He's such a moron . . .' Quinn notes and throws a glance over her shoulders just to see that Puck has turned around and is looking hungrily at her. She sighs and calls out to him, 'Stop looking at my butt, you perv!' before she turns back around and grabs Kurt's arm anew. 'What?' she asks at the raised eyebrow-expression Kurt is giving her.

'He still likes you,' the petite boy notes.

'So?'

'So?' Kurt imitates her.

'Oh for God's sake, stop it Kurt, I'm not in a mood for this!' she says and she can hear her HBIC-attitude taking over.

Kurt rolls his eyes and sighs loudly. 'Oh, sweetie, you need to loosen up!'

'What are you talking about?' she glances skeptically at him.

'Friday night. 8 P.M. My place. Just the girls. It will be _amazing_.' He basically sings the last word out.

Quinn sighs. 'I don't know, Kurt.'

'Oh please, sweetheart! I will miss you!' the brown haired boy pleads. 'Oh, and we will do each other's hair and have facials!' he ads in an attempt to get her more interested.

She smiles softly. 'We'll see.'

'I really want you to come! We could gossip about boys and fashion-mess-ups . . . And I kind of need your advice on something.' Kurt's tone changed somewhat with the last sentence, to a more . . . what? Embarrassed tone? No, not really. Insecure? Definitely!

Quinn shoots him a glance. 'About what?'

'I'd rather not discuss that right now, right here,' He lets his beautiful mélange eyes sweep up and down the hall.

'Oh, okay . . .'

'Please come on Friday!' his tone changes back to its normal cheerful one, but before Quinn can give him another "We'll see", he excuses himself and says he has to run to a class and then he leaves her.

_Was that just me or is Kurt acting more strange than usual today_? She picks up her pace again and continues walking towards her English class.

The door to the class room is already open and she walks inside and takes a seat at the rear back. There is barely anyone in the room expect from the class' two teachers' pets. They're always in the class room before everybody else. Once Brittany had asked her how they could get there as fast, she had asked if they knew how to teleport. Quinn had tried to explain to Brittany that that wasn't the case, that they didn't know how to teleport, but as usual the taller blonde was a lost case to reason with.

She takes her English book from her bag and places it on her desk. The other kids are starting to swarm into the class room as the clock above the door says 9 A.M.

'Look who's already here!' Quinn hears a familiar voice say as she is opening up her English book.

The next thing she sees is a tight ass dressed in blue denims sitting down on her open book. 'You sick or something Q?' the raven haired girl sitting on Quinn's desk stretches out a hand and puts it on Quinn's forehead. 'Nope,' the girl continues as she realizes her friend's head is not hot, 'no fever. You hit your head or somethin', Fabray?'

Quinn rolls her eyes and pushes away the girl sitting on her desk. 'Drop it, Santana.'

'What did she drop?' another girl asks, this one blonde, and starts to scan the floor after anything that might have gotten dropped by the raven haired girl.

Quinn and the Latina both roll their eyes simultaneously.

'Brittany, she didn't drop anything,' Quinn explains.

'It's just a saying, Britt,' Santana sighs.

'Oh . . . I know that . . .' Brittany says slowly and gets back up on her feet. 'Uh . . . by the way, I found my gum.'

'Your what?' Santana asks and frowns, not sure she actually _wants_ to hear what Brittany just found.

'My gum, it was under the tab—'

'Okay, stop it right there! I don't wanna hear!' Santana says and puts her hand over Brittany's mouth.

Quinn smiles at her two friends. Talk about being each other opposites.

'So how's winter break?' Santana asks. 'No, forget that, how was France? In the winter?' Santana isn't the first one to think that it is a little unusual to visit Paris in the middle of the winter.

'It was good, really good.'

'Did you meet any cute Frances?' Brittany queers with sparkling eyes and as a result of the question Santana sends her an evil look sideways.

'And it's Frenchmen, Britt. _Frenchmen_,' the Latina mutters.

Santana's reaction causes Quinn to laugh but she soon covers her mouth as she realizes that the principal has walked into the class room. In a tow behind principal Figgins is a tall brown haired man with beautiful chocolate eyes.

The class room goes quiet as the short Indian man clears his throat. 'Silence, children. Silence,' he says anyway, with a heavy Indian accent. It must be a habit of his, always saying that. 'I have an announcement. This,' he gestures to the tall man beside him, 'is Mr. Eaton and he will be your English teacher from now on.'

'Hey, wait! What happened t—' one of the boys at the back calls out before principal Figgins interrupts him by telling the class that their previous teacher suffered a mental breakdown and had to be put into a mental hospital.

'What!' another student exclaims. 'What'd she do?'

Principal Figgins considers the consequences of him telling what happened. _Are the children mature enough to hear the truth? Probably not._ 'She caught her husband cheating on her with his personal tennis instructor; I think his name was Ian. No. Ivan . . . Igor? Yes, Igor, so she cut of his . . . well, you know what I mean . . . wiener, and then she fed it to their cats.' The class is all quietly staring at their principle. 'But she is good now. He too, except he's not . . . well, anyway, this is Mr. Eaton and he will be here for the rest of the semester.'

The students are all sitting mouth agape. You could probably hear a pin drop if anyone had been cliché enough to bring a pin to school so that they could drop it now.

'Thank you for listening. Enjoy your class,' principal Figgins says as he turns to walk to the door. 'Mr. Eaton,' he excuses himself as he almost walks into the young teacher. The short Indian leaves the class room and closes the door after himself.

'Well . . . I'm sorry to hear about your last teacher . . . I hope she gets well soon,' the new teacher says and turns to face the still shocked class. 'But in the meantime I hope we're going to have some serious fun!' His lips part into a white toothy grin. He's got perfect teeth.

Quinn catches Santana turn around towards her and the Latina mouths_ he's hot _towards her blonde friend while rolling her eyes.

Quinn chuckles softly but covers her mouth so that the new teacher won't see it. _He's actually kind of cute, _she notes.

'By the way, my name is Brian Eaton,' the teacher continues, 'and I'm from Los Angeles, California. But enough about me, I want to learn to know _you_ guys, so what about you pair up and then you tell me something interesting about your partner.'

The students quickly pair up and sit down in their pairs and never before has an assignment gone as smooth as this one. Perhaps English class will be quite fun this year.

'Okay, are you ready?' Brian asks and sits down on the master's desk. He is tall and he hasn't really got the body of a teacher. He looks more like, like an athlete. Like a baseball or a football player.

When he gets a resounding "Yeah!" he motions for the first pair, which is Artie and Brittany, to start.

'Should I start now?' the wheelchair bound boy asks nervously.

'Yeah.'

'Ok-ay . . . well, this is Brittany Pierce and she is a cheerleader and a very talented singer and dancer. Uh . . . she is also a part of Glee Club—'

'Loser' some jock at the back coughs.

'Continue,' Brian encourages Artie whilst he shoots a warning gaze at the boy who "coughed".

'She has a cat named Lord Tubbington and she is also _very_ beautiful,' Artie finishes while blushing a little. They aren't dating any longer, Brittany and him, but he still manages to flush every once in a while when he is talking about her.

'Thank you, young man,' Brian says to Artie before he turns to Brittany. 'You're next.'

'Oh, is it my turn?'

'Yes, it is your turn,' Brian answers patiently.

'Okay.' A moment of silence passes. 'What am I supposed to do again?'

'Tell us others something interesting about your friend,' the teacher says.

'Oh, okay. Uh . . . This is Artie Abrams. He is disabled,' the comment causes some smothered chuckles and some silent gasps. Only Brittany can be so straightforward about the obvious that no one dares to comment on. 'but he's a very good singer. He is also in Glee Club. That's where I met him.'

'That's great,' Brian notes, referring to the singing and Glee Club. 'Anything else?'

'We have done it both in his chair and on his bed,' Brittany says with a wide smile. Once again, there is only one person who dares to say things like that: Brittany S. Pierce.

'Oh! Ok-ay . . . Thank you, Brittany,' Brian says whilst his cheeks redden some. 'Uh, next pair.'

'He's kind of hot when he blushes,' Quinn whispers to Santana, who giggles. 'No you _cannot _say that,' she quickly adds as she figures out why the Latina is finding the situation so amusing. 'I'll kill you if you say it!' the blonde threatens.

'Okay, okay, your secret is safe with me, Q, Santana whispers back as Brian hands the baton to the next group. But as Quinn can still see a smirk plying on Santana's lips she is not so sure her friend will keep the secret a secret for much longer. So when it is time for them, she quickly takes initiative to start, thinking that if she goes soft on Santana perhaps the girl will return the favor.

'This is Santana Lopez,' she starts and glances over at the girl in question, 'and she is one of my best friends. She is a cheerleader just as Brittany and she is also a very good singer. She's got a lot of attitude too, so she's not one to mess with' That earns her a couple of "You don't say" and "Really?" 'And, uh, I think I'm done.'

'Okay, you're up, Santana,' Brian says and nods.

'This is _the fabulous_ Quinn Fabray,' Santana starts and at that Quinn discreetly knees the raven haired girl in her thigh. 'Cool it off, baby-mama! Where was I? Oh, yeah . . . This is Quinn. Ex-Cheerio and current Glee Clubber and oh, yeah, former president of the Celibacy Club, however we know how that ende—ouch! What the h—'

'I think we're good there, Santana. Thank you,' Eaton says.

'Yeah, yeah. Whatever,' the Latina mumbles. Then she turns to Quinn. 'What the hell did you kick me for?'

Quinn just eyeballs her friend.

'Aw, come one, Q! Everybody knows!'

'Still you don't have to bring it up,' she whispers, her voice barely audible. 'That wasn't cool, San.'

'Okay, I get it. I'm sorry.'

The blonde says nothing but judging by the tiny smile that appears on her lips the apology is accepted.

'Admit it though, you think he's hot,' Santana says quietly as she nudges Quinn in the side.

* * *

Being the first day back to school after winter break Rachel is super psyched about meeting all of her friends again. She hadn't had much time to hang out with her friends during the break since her dads had decided to renovate the kitchen. And the living room. She had been so busy painting walls and buying new porcelain that she had completely forgotten to bring the Glee group together for a party during the break as she had planned to. However spending some time off from her friends was probably just a good thing; it gave them all time to reflect over what had happened last year and to refill their depots. Also not spending time with the other kids in the club had left Rachel with a lot more alone time with her boyfriend, Finn Hudson. And it was needed. They had both realized that it would probably take a lot of work and time to patch up their ragged relationship, so that they would be able to trust each other again. After last year's bumpy ride of cheating and back stabbing the two brunettes have decided that no matter what happens they have to stay honest with each other. And having the whole winter break to reconcile and make up has definitely repaired their relationship.

She spots him standing by his locker—which is actually almost right next to hers—talking with some guy from the football team who she doesn't recall seeing around before. _Maybe he's new, _she is leaning lazily against the beige sheet metal doors, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his red WMHS varsity jacket.

She walks up to him as soon as she sees that the other footballer is leaving.

'Hey, Finn,' she says and brushes a strand of her brown hair from her face.

'Hey, Babe,' the tall boy whispers and leans in and kisses the top of her head. 'Was your first class okay?'

The short brunette nods. 'Yes, I suppose it was . . .'

'You suppose? That doesn't sound very Rachel-ish,' he chuckles and pulls out his Spanish books.

'Well, we've got a new English teacher.'

'Uh-hu . . . that's good though, isn't it? I think I remember you not liking the last one,' he says and smiles.

'Yes, I didn't, but . . .'

'But?' Finn queers.

'The new one is kind of . . . young and _hip_ and . . . he's kind of good looking . . .' Rachel explains, flushing a bit as she says the last words.

'Okay . . . so? Luckily for Rachel her boyfriend doesn't notice her cheeks reddening. 'Since when does that bother you, Rach?' he continues.

'It doesn't, really . . . but there's something about him, you know. Something strange.'

'It doesn't have anything to do with the fact that Mrs. Whatever-her-name-was-again liked you a lot and gave you very good grades?' the tall boy asks absentmindedly.

Unfortunately for him that thoughtlessness earns him a fist to the shoulder. '_Ouch, Rach!_ Why'd you do that?' he exclaims. He never thought that the tiny girl could hit so hard.

'I'm not a teacher's pet, Finn!' the short diva mumbles and stares him dead in the eyes.

Finn takes a deep breath which he exhales before speaking again. 'I didn't mean it like that, Rachel. I know you're not a teacher's pet . . .' _Total lie!_ 'I would be pretty upset too, if Mr. Schue quit teaching me in Spanish. I wouldn't pass if I got another teacher.' He tugs a strand of escaped hair behind her ear and smiles. _God he loves this girl!_

She stares at him for a couple of seconds, deciding whether to forgive him or not. Not surprisingly she chooses to go with the first alternative, being too afraid of risking their relationship for such a trifle. She has done that mistake before and she isn't about to redo it.

She gets up on her tiptoes and plants a soft kiss on his cheek. 'I love you, Finn Hudson,' she whisper in his ear.

Feeling the short brunette rest her hand on his chest and brush her lips against his skin causes his knees to soften. When she whispers her affection into his ear it's like song to him. The most beautiful song ever sung.

'I love you too, Rachel Berry,' he replies and kisses her lips.

* * *

Finally it's time for the first Glee class since before Winter break. Not having met all the others in the group during the break, Finn is looking forward—more than ever—to see the guys again.

He strides into the choir room, alone, since he had to go to the bathroom and therefore had told Rachel to not wait for him.

He high-fives Puck, nods friendly at Mike and fist pumps Artie—who would have thought that would ever happened two years ago—before he gets up on the second row and takes a seat beside Rachel, pecking her on the cheek as he sits down.

'I've missed you, babe,' she whispers in his ear and twines their fingers together.

'It's been like five minutes, Rachel . . .'

'I still missed you.' She smiles at him.

'Welcome back kids!' Mr. Schue shouts in a happy voice as he enters the choir room. There's a huge smile plastered on his face. 'I hope the break's done good to you. That you're all rested and ready to get back to business.'

'Of course we are, Mr. Schue,' Rachel answers for the whole group.

Schuester smiles. 'That sounds good, Rachel.' And before the short brunette girl gets any time to start talking again, Schue continues, 'However, spending this New Year's Eve alone in my apartment, listening to my old vinyl records – it got me thinking.'

'About what, Mr. Schue?' Artie asks and pushes his glasses up over the hump of his nose. He is seated in the front row next to Mike Chang.

'It got me feeling very nostalgic. I realized I knew all the words, all the steps. Then it got me thinking: is there a song like that today? A song that _everybody_ has heard of, that everybody knows?'

'Lady Gaga,' Kurt points out bored.

'Okay, Lady Gaga's an exception, but can you find anyone else?' Schue takes a deep breath to control his agitation. 'There isn't someone like Michael Jackson or Madonna or Wham! out there today!'

Kurt rolls his eyes nonchalantly. He loves Madonna and Michael Jackson and even Wham! but Lady Gaga is as good as any of the others, and in his opinion a lot more interesting too.

'So that, my friends, is why I have decided that this week's assignment is the 80's,' Schue announces, reaching over to the piano and picking up some sheet music.

Rachel claps her hand intensively. 'Yay!' Is there any theme she isn't thrilled about?

'I am _so not_ doing any more hairography à la Whitesnake,' Kurt points out and straightens his back.

Santana rolls her eyes at the vain boy's complaining.

Mr. Schue quickly hands out the sheet music to the kids and gestures for the band to start at his count.

'One, two, ah, one, two, three, four!' he says then he starts to clap his hands. After a few seconds the keyboard player kicks in.

_We have the chance to turn the pages over  
We can write what we want to write  
We gotta make ends meet, before we get much older_

Schue lets go of the edge of the black piano and walks towards the kids on the first row. The choir teacher is looking happier than ever.

_We're all someone's daughter, _he sings to Quinn._  
We're all someone's son, _he reaches out to take Finn's hand._  
How long can we look at each other  
Down the barrel of a gun?_

Kurt glances sideways at Mercedes, who responds with a wry smile of pity.

_You're the voice, try and understand it  
Make the noise and make it clear, oh, woah_  
_We're not gonna sit in silence  
We're not gonna live with fear, oh, woah_

This time, we know we all can stand together  
With the power to be powerful  
Believing we can make it better

Ooh, we're all someone's daughter,

Mr. Schue takes Santana's hand, just to let it go a few seconds later. He moves over to Kurt and sings the next line to him._  
We're all someone's son, oh  
Give a look at each other  
Down the barrel of a gun_

You're the voice, try and understand it,

he sings at the top of his lungs. The kids—one after one—tune up in a powerful choir behind him._  
Make the noise and make it clear, oh, woah  
We're not gonna sit in silence  
We're not gonna live with fear, oh, woah_, he grabs Mercedes hand and leads her down to the floor and spins her around.

Ooh, we're all someone's daughter  
We're all someone's son  
How long can we look at each other  
Down the barrel of a gun?

Everybody is now singing. Well, almost everybody. Except Sam. For some reason he isn't really in a mood to sing today.

You're the voice, try and understand it

Puck reaches his hand out to Quinn, smiling gently as he does. She accepts it and he walks her down to the floor, where most of the others are dancing, everyone except Rory, Sam and Artie, but Artie doesn't dance simply because it's kind of hard when you're in a wheel chair._  
Make the noise and make it clear, oh, woah_ _  
We're not gonna sit in silence. _Mercedes rushes up to Sam and leads him into a dance._  
We're not gonna live with fear, oh, woah_ Rory joins the dancing kids as well, pairing up with Brittany.

You're the voice, try and understand it

Schue sings smiling broadly._  
Make the noise and make it clear, oh, woah_ he wiggle his fingers and raises his arms in a gesture to get the kids sing higher._  
We're not gonna sit in silence  
We're not gonna live with fear, oh, woah_

They repeat the chorus once again, all of them together.

_You're the voice, try and understand it  
Make the noise and make it clear, oh, woah  
We're not gonna sit in silence  
We're not gonna live with fear, oh, woah _Schue holds the tone, while the others move on to sing the chorus once again.

You're the voice, try and understand it  
Make the noise and make it clear, oh, woah  
We're not gonna sit in silence  
We're not gonna live with fear, oh, woah

'That, kids,' Schue pants, stroking the sweat from his forehead, 'is what I want it to sound like!'

The kids all laugh.

'That was great, Mr. Schue,' Tina giggles and several of the others nod in assent.

'Awesome, Mr. Schue!' Finn hollers.

The coach laughs and bows. 'Thank you, guys! Thank you!' He takes a deep breath, then he says, 'But that wasn't me . . . that was _you_. All you.'

Rachel snickers. 'Don't be silly Mr. Schue.'

'No, seriously guys, listen. I wouldn't be doing any of this without you. You changed my life . . . and that to the better. I would never have had the opportunity to do this if it wasn't for you. I have you to thank for a lot of things in my life.' Everybody listens intently at him. 'So, yes, this is all you. And I can't thank you enough.' He smiles.

For a moment it is completely quiet in the otherwise so noisy choir room.

Tina is the first to break the silence. 'Aww, Mr. Schue. We are the ones who should thank you!'

'Yeah,' Finn mumbles.

'Totally,' Santana agrees.

'No doubt,' Mercedes says and slides her hand into Sam's. 'None of us would be friends if it wasn't for you.' Sam blushes a bit.

'Right,' Puck says and puts his arm around Quinn's shoulder as he catches her glancing at Sam and Mercedes holding hands.

Schue smiles slightly. He very touched by his student's words. 'It's a win-win for everyone I guess,' he says and laughs softly.

'Totally,' Finn says and side-hugs Rachel. Schue watches him and smiles.

For once there is no drama, no trouble and no problems. Glee is in harmony. Finally. The question is: how long is it going to last?

* * *

There is a gentle knock on glass, then shortly after she hears the door open and close and suddenly she feels a pair of strong arms wrap around her from behind.

She is standing up, back against the door, putting up new brochures on her desk.

She feels a pair of warm lips against her neck and she hisses as they make contact with her skin once again. 'Will, this is not appropriate,' she giggles and turns around.

'I know, Emma, but I just needed to hold you,' Mr. Schue says and kisses her on the forehead.

'I love you too, Will,' she says and slides out of his grip. 'But this is our workplace and we need to respect that.' She blinks, her long eyelashes fluttering each time, though unintentionally.

He leans back against the glass wall, watching her with a smile on his lips. 'You are right, Emma. I shouldn't be doing that here . . . It's just . . . I'm so happy.' His smile widens.

She smiles as well. 'I'm glad I make you feel that way,' she snickers and returns to putting up colorful brochures.

_Divorce: Why your parents stopped loving you, So you like throwing up, I can't stop toughing myself. Where does she get those? They are . . . weird._ He wrinkles his forehead.

'Are you okay?' she queers.

'What?'

'Are you okay, Will? You looked . . . confused,' Emma says and walks around her desk.

'Uh . . . you saw that?' he chuckles. 'I just watched your booklets. They are . . . uh, special.'

She giggles. 'You are acting very weird today, William.' He shrugs and smiles and she sits down behind her desk and starts to sharpen one of her pencils.

_I am marrying one of the most amazing women in this world_. He smiles.

She looks up. 'You are honestly starting to scare me, Will. Are you sure you're okay?'

'One hundred percent,' he assures her. 'But I should probably get going.'

Emma nods. 'Yes. You shouldn't miss your class because of me.'

Will stops short in the door way. He turns around with a smile. 'Now I remember why I really came here,' he says.

'Yes?' Emma queers excitedly, but also a bit nervous.

'The kids are doing the eighties and since I know how much you like that era, why don't you come and listen to their performances this week?'

Emma's face breaks into a huge smile. 'Really? That sound very fun, Will. I'll come!'

'Good,' he says and walks over and kisses her one last time before he leaves the room.

_I'm marrying one of the most amazing men in this world_, she notes with a smile.

* * *

_Dear Journal,_

_There are certain benefits you get from being the biggest and, well _only_, local celebrity of Lima Heights, Ohio, as I am. Apart from a private parking slot with an engine pre-heater both at McKinley High School, the mall and the local television studio you also get respect and power. The kids _fear_ you. The teachers submit to you. They stop eating their donuts or drinking their lousy coffee as you walk into the teachers lunch room. You are at the top of the food chain. And there is no one that can bring you down. _

_Well, except for one man and his ridiculous little show choir of misfits. _

_Ever since Will Schuester took over that Glee Club, he and Figgins have been milking my budget for the Cheerios, even going as far as forcing my Cheerios to have their uniforms dry cleaned here in the United States of America instead of in Europe, which they rightfully deserves. But that will have to end. Right now! I _will_ find a way to _destroy_ that permed hair named William Schuester and the kids of his Glee Club, once and for all._

She presses the pen hard against the paper as she marks the last dot. Then she shuts the skin-wrapped book close and puts it in the top drawer of her desk, locks the drawer and hides the golden key in one of her older Cheerios trophies. Then she leans back in her chair and folds her legs. 'Destroying Glee Club . . .' she mumbles and starts to think of ways to make her greatest dream come true.

She is in the middle building a giant confetti canon that will bury Will Schuester and his pathetic pack of degenerated teens in red and white confetti when there is a firm knock on the hard wood that constitutes the door to her office.

'Yes,' she calls out in a wheezy tone that would fool anyone to think that she has been smoking since childhood.

'Coach?' A low, careful voice asks.

'Come in Becky,' Sue says and motions for the short blonde girl to step inside her office. She has been waiting for the girl to come. 'Reports?'

Becky walks up to the desk and stand with straight back. 'Glee Club is singing songs from the 80's,' she lisps. 'Mr. Schuester has asked Ms. Pillsbury to come.' The short girl raises her hand to her head and salutes her coach.

Sue nods thoughtfully. _Not much to work with there . . ._ 'Good job, Becky. But we need something juicier. Something that will make the extinction of Glee Club inevitable.' Sue's face twists into an evil grin and Becky smiles. Then the Cheerios coach turns her full attention back to the short blonde girl. There is a look in her eye, but Sue cannot quite put her finger on what it is. But she knows that it is good. She says, 'You, Becky, will grow up to become something important one day . . .'

The blonde girl blushes and smiles. 'Oh, th-thank you, coa—'

'Now, go out and find something that will bring Glee Club to the grave!'

Becky nods intensely. 'Got it, coach.' Then she hustles out of the room.

'Prepare to be crushed, William,' Sue grunts as she picks up a red and white dart and tosses it at the dart board on which she has had Becky tape a picture of Will Schuester. The dart digs its way into the curly haired man's forehead, right into the spot between his eyes. Shot dead center.

* * *

Author's note

Hope you enjoyed the prologue and the first chapter!

The song sung by Mr. Schuester was _You're the Voice_ by John Farnham. Great song that always makes me happy.

Remember that reviews are always welcome!


	2. A Trip of Nostalgia

Not Making the Same Mistake Again

Summary: Less than four months remain of the school year, for some students it's the last four months at William McKinley High. Therefore it's natural for the kids to want to make the best of the remaining time. However, a lot of things can go wrong in sixteen weeks . . .

Rated Teen for language primarily. There may be some spoilers for the two first seasons of the show as well as the third up until somewhere short after the episode _Hold on to Sixteen_.

I hope you will enjoy reading this multi-character fanfiction as much as I have enjoyed writing it!

I apologize in advance for any incorrect grammar or typo that may occur.

Reviews are very welcome.

Disclaimer: I do_not_ own _Glee_ nor do I own any of its characters. The same goes for anything involving the music mentioned.

End of author's note. Now on to the story!

* * *

_Chapter 2 – Back to the Eighties_

[TUESDAY]

He yanks the shoulder pad off and dumps it in the laundry trolley. From eight or so weeks with heavy pre-season practice it has gotten quite smelly and discolored. Not that he is very vain when it comes to his clothes—in this case his equipment—but smelling and looking decent helps when hitting on women. Especially on young good looking Christian girls.

He peels his tight white football pants off and dumps them as well in the trolley. _Poor dude that's gotta wash these for us . . ._

In only his boxers he trudges back to his locker and pulls out a towel and soap. He removes his boxers and lets them drop to the floor, and then he wraps the red William McKinley High School towel around his waist. He doesn't bother to pick his dirty underwear up since he know that he is almost alone in the locker room and basically no one has the guts anyways to complain to him. That's the profit you get from being the school's number one badass. A label he worked very hard to get during his first two years at this school.

He strolls into the now empty shower room. Most of the guys have already showered and headed for lunch, but he had stayed behind and done some extra laps and push-ups along with some other guys from the team who had yet not turned to the showers. So for now he is alone.

After turning the water on he stretches out and hangs his towel on the rack. Taking long showers after the rest of the team has gone is one of the most relaxing things he knows, though he will never admit it to anyone. That'd just get them to jump to conclusions . . .

He turns the thermostat, making the water hotter. Closing his eyes he steps in under the water beams, letting them wash away all bad feelings along with the dirt and the grass stuck to his tanned skin. He thinks about the assignment Mr. Schue's given them. He likes the eighties; it was an era of really good classic rock bands, like Van Halen, Kiss and Bon Jovi. But despite his positive feelings towards the decennia he can't seem to find a song that speaks to him.

He blows out air, causing water that has trickled down his forehead and nose to sprinkle from his upper lip.

'You look low, dude. Somethin' happened?' he hears a familiar deep voice say. It comes from his left.

'Naw, man. Just gathering strength for this afternoon,' Puck lies.

The other boy nods, knowing very well that they have one more practice later in the day. A practice they've been promised will be tough. Very tough. And when coach Beiste say it's going to get tough, you can count on it.

'Yeah . . . that's probably a good thing to do. I'm sensing an hour of running . . . topped with a couple of hundred push-ups and sit-ups,' the boy smirks and turns on the water to his shower. 'By the way, you looked good out there today, Puckerman.'

Puck chuckles confidently. 'I know.'

The other boy smiles wryly and reaches for his soap.

After a moment of silence Puck reaches for his own soap and starts to rub himself down. 'Hey, Evans . . .' he says and thoughtfully chews the inside of his chin.

'Yeah?'

'What going on with you and Quinn?'

The other boy frowns. His blonde hair plastered to his forehead by the water that is running down his face. He remembers that this is the very same place where Finn discovered him about a year ago. The very same stall. _I sang Every Rose Has its Thorn, if I remember correctly_, the blonde boy thinks.

'C'mon Evans, I know there's still something there . . .' Puck pushes and glances at his teammate.

Sam shakes his head slowly, but refuses to meet Puck's stare. 'There's nothing going on between us.' He puts the soap down on the floor beside his feet. 'I've barely spoken to her since I got back . . .' He lowers his gaze and the boy with the Mohawk arcs an eyebrow. He had talked to her the same day he came back to school after his family moved back to Ohio. She had asked him to raise Beth with him, told him that he would make a great father. But he had turned her down and stated that she had what he called "rich white girl problems". In retrospect he has realized that it wasn't very nice of him to say that. She never wanted to get pregnant, it was a _mistake_. And everybody makes mistakes, right? He sighs loudly and rubs his eyes with his right hand. 'We're through.'

Puck smiles wryly and snorts. 'Never though that'd happen. At least not to you . . . I mean she could _definitely_ find something better . . . but you, you can't expect to find someone prettier than her. Never thought you'd dump her like that . . .' He shrugs.

Sam looks down, a hurt expression on his face. 'I had my reasons,' he mumbles quietly.

'She cheated.'

Sam nods slowly and chews on his bottom lip.

'So?'

'What, so?' the blonde asks confused.

'Who is she?' Puck says, trying not to sound too curious. 'Someone you met in Kentucky, White Chocolate?'

'What are you talking about, Puck?' Sam says and steppes out of the shower. He pulls his towel down from the rack and wraps it around his slim waist. 'You make no sense, dude. And don't call me that. I am not proud of what I did, but I did it to help my family.'

'You just don't get over a girl like Quinn, just like that . . . who's the stand in?' Puck asks.

Sam sends the shorter boy a murderous glance. And if looks _could_ kill, Puck would be stone dead. 'She's not a stand in,' he mutters.

Puck smirks. _And the little stupid fish swam right into the net . ._ . 'Then who is she?'

The blonde boy shakes his head in irritation. 'Mercedes,' he says finally.

'What?' Puck exclaims shocked by the name his friend said. He could have accepted pretty much any other girl in school . . . but Mercedes, come on? Puck shakes his head as if he can't believe what he just heard. It's not that he doesn't like Mercedes, because he actually does. He even dated her for a short time, though it was mostly to regain the popularity he lost after joining Glee Club. But she is a nice girl and she's got a pretty face but she isn't the kind of girl one would expect Sam Evans to fall for. 'Seriously, dude?' Puck queers.

Sam sighs and leaves the showers.

Puck stays behind. For three reasons mainly; number one: he really needs to process this; two: does this mean Quinn is free and totally available? And number three: the showers are very warm and relaxing today.

Suddenly he realizes what he needs to do for this week's assignment, but he'll need some help.

* * *

'I'm totally psyched about this week's assignment,' Tina says excitedly, popping another Oreo into her mouth. Santana, Brittany and she are seated at a table out in the yard, savoring their lunches. It's a little cold, but they are rather sitting here, in the cold, than inside with the prejudicial morons of the hockey team.

'I'm not surprised,' Santana comments and bites into her cheeseburger. A drop of dressing is squeezed out from between the meat and the top bread, and it runs down her fingers before it drips down onto the tray.

Tina glances offended at the Latina, but chooses to not say anything. Picking a fight with the most hot-tempered and bitchy girl at school is not a very good idea, especially not since she is one of your only friends. That would be like throwing yourself to the wolves.

'Are you eating that?' Santana asks pointing at Brittany's French fries, whilst she is trying to wipe away the dressing from her fingers with a paper towel.

'No, you can have them,' the blonde says and turns the box of fries towards the raven haired girl with a fingerless-gloved hand.

'So what are you singing?' Tina asks, shifting her gaze between the two girls sitting opposite of her.

Santana shrugs and Brittany wrinkles her forehead. Apparently the two girls haven't thought of that yet. The Asian girl is a bit surprised. 'You haven't thought of anything yet?'

The two Cheerios shake their heads simultaneously. 'Nope,' Santana utters, seeming bored by the conversation. She licks at the edge of the straw before she takes a sip of her Diet Coke.

'Okay . . .' Tina mumbles and pokes her mashed potato. _Damn, I wish I understood them . . . How can they be so jaunty and happy-go-lucky?_ She studies the blonde cheerleader, watching her dipping her fries in strawberry jam. _Perhaps they're high on something._

'What are you looking at Girl-Chang?' Santana mutters as she notices Tina staring at Brittany. She is a bit territorial, Santana.

'That's kind of an odd combination,' the Asian girl points out and motions to the French fry in Brittany's hand. Mere minutes ago the daffy blonde had stated she didn't want to eat the rest of her French fries; apparently she had changed her mind.

'No, no, it's really good. Try it!' Brittany extends a hand holding a French fry dripping with strawberry jam. She smiles broadly. 'It is soooo delicious! Mm . . .'

Tina winces. 'I'm fine . . . I trust you.'

Santana rolls her eyes. Then she exclaims, 'Hey, you boy!' as she sees Puck exiting the school building. He strides over to them, walking slowly and very confidently. That man's got swagger.

'How's it going, ladies?' he says with a smirk and sits down, straddling the park chair.

Brittany smiles. 'Good.' Then her face becomes more serious, 'I think my cat's reading my diary again though . . .' Both Puck and Tina arcs an eyebrow each as they stare at the blonde Cheerio. Santana sighs loudly. She had tried to make the blonde understand that cats can't read, but obviously it hadn't worked since she still believed Lord Tubbington was secretly reading her diary.

'What brings us this pleasure, Puckerman?' Santana then says, tilting her head to the side and letting her chin rest her hand.

He smiles wryly. He knows she doesn't enjoy his presence quite as much as she is stating. 'I know you love me.' He mocks and looks deep into her eyes.

'As much as I love chicken-pox, hon.' she says in her best HBIC-attitude.

Puck chuckles. _She'll never be able to pull that off as, Q, but she's a close second._ 'I have a proposition for you,' he says and looks all of the girls in the eye, one at a time.

'Are you proposing? Now?' Brittany queers wide-eyed and skips her gaze between the Latina and Puck.

Santana rolls her eyes theatrically and smiles. 'No, Britt, he's not proposing.' Then she turns back to the boy with the mohawk 'Shoot it,' she orders.

'Hold your horses, cowboy. I want to know if you're in or not first.'

* * *

_The clock has been ticking real slowly this day_, William Schuester notes as he _finally_ gets to walk into his beloved choir room. He has been excited about Glee Club all day, ever since Mercedes came up to him at lunch and told him that she and the other girls were going to perform a song to the rest of the club, the boys that is, and Sugar who didn't want to do an 80's song because of the funky outfits.

Schue had even walked over to Emma's office and asked her to drop by if she got a moment over. Her love for the 80's was far from a secret to anyone at the school, teachers as students, everybody knows about it.

The clock tells him that he has got a few more minutes left to prepare before the kids will be dropping in. While whistling the soundtrack to _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_ he starts to clean the piano of old sheet music.

Then two minutes before three he feel his phone vibrate in his pocket and he fishes it up.

_- Auditorium /Rachel, _is written in black letters.

He gathers his jacket and portfolio and locks the door to the choir room. On the way to the auditorium he drop by Emma's office to tell her the performance has been moved in case she wants to drop by.

She is busy in a telephone conversation with the mother of a student who ended up being suspended due to inappropriate behavior during the Winter Prom, so she just nods Will an "okay" and then waves at him as he disappears around the corner.

3.04 P.M. does he enter the big auditorium. All of the boys in Glee Club are already seated in the first three rows. And Finn nods a "hello" as Mr. Schue takes a seat at the third row, right next to Mike.

Soon the lights go out and they hear light footsteps against hard wood. When the spotlight is turned on, lighting up the stage, Mercedes is standing in the middle of it, dressed in a black and maroon dress, much like the one worn by June Pointer in the original music video of _I'm So Excited_. She is looking marvelous. Her hair is curled and backcombed to make it look bigger and the make-up is a shade heavier than the one she usually wears.

When she starts to sing, it sends shivers of pleasure down Schue's spine. The African American girl's voice is one of the most beautiful and powerful he has ever heard. Her voice reminds him a lot of Whitney Huston's.

Mercedes and Santana are singing half the first verse each, with Mercedes taking the first two lines and Santana taking the two last. The two girls, Schue notes, do both have an amazing touch of soul in their voices and they do sound very good together.

_Tonight's the night we're gonna make it happen  
Tonight we'll put all other things aside  
Get in this time and show me some affection  
We're goin' for those pleasures in the night_

Rachel, Tina, Brittany and Quinn who earlier had only been swaying gracefully in the background now steps forward and form a beautiful quartet for the pre-chorus and the chorus. It is a bit unusual to see Rachel do back-up singing—she is always the one singing the solos, she has a very beautiful voice so there is nothing wrong about that—but still it is quite a nice change to see someone else in the middle of the stage and not Ms. Berry.

The girls are all dressed in similar dresses as the ones that Mercedes and Santana are wearing. In the pre-chorus the girls only supported Mercedes and Santana on a few words, just for effect, but as the chorus begins the entire group of girls tune up.

_I want to love you, feel you, wrap myself around you  
I want to squeeze you, please you, I just can't get enough  
And if you move real slow I let it go_

The dancing is rather improvised but fits the number perfectly, somehow. The song is after all about not being able to control oneself. And the boys seem to love it, judging by the silly smirks on their faces and the occasional whistles.

_I'm so excited and I just can't hide it  
I'm about to lose control and I think I like it  
I'm so excited and I just can't hide it  
And I know I know I know I know I know I want you_

The expressions on the boy's faces only turns more pleased when the girls all point to them while singing _I know I want you._

The second verse belongs to Quinn and Tina, with Quinn singing first and Tina taking over after her.

The blonde girl too, just like her girlfriends, looks stunning in her black dress, though she is the only one whose hair is pinned up. Her eye make-up is smokier than what she usually wears and her lips have got the devil's color. There are whistles heard from some of the boys though it is impossible to make out from whom they came and it makes Quinn smile and blush slightly. As Quinn sings her last note she cannot help but to throw a quick glance at a certain blonde boy. He is leaning lazily against the arm rest on his seat beside Finn and a small smile is plastered on his face.

Everybody's eye turns to Tina when Quinn grows quiet. The pretty Asian girl looks gorgeous in her black and maroon gown as she sings the last two lines of the verse. And she does so _without _crying.

_We shouldn't even think about tomorrow  
Sweet memories will last for long long time  
We'll have a good time, Baby, don't do worry  
And if we're still playin' around boy that's just fine_

Then they all join in again for the chorus except Mercedes who takes the high vocal freestyles.

_Let's get excited, _

_(Oh)_

_we just can't hide it_

_(No, no, no)  
I'm about to lose control and I think I like it  
I'm so excited and I just can't hide it_

_(No, no)  
I know I know I know I know I know I want you, I want you_

_(Uh-hu )_

During the instrumental break all the girls pair up and dance around. Santana with Brittany, Rachel with Mercedes and Quinn with Tina.

_(Oh boy)  
I want to love you, feel you, wrap myself around you  
I want to squeeze you, please you, I just can't get enough  
And if you move real slow I let it go_

_I'm so excited,_

_(Uh, uh-he)_

_I just can't hide it_

_(Oh)  
I'm about to lose control and I think I like it_

_(Oh yeah)  
I'm so excited and I just can't hide it_

_(No, no, no, no, no)  
I know I know I know I know I know I want you_

_I'm so excited,_

_(Look what you do to me)_

_I just can't hide it_

_(You've got me burning up)  
I'm about to lose control and I think I like it, yeah_

_(Oh, yeah)  
I'm so excited_

_(I think you get to me)_

_and I just can't deny, no, no_

_(I've got to give it up, ooooooh)  
I know I know I want you_

* * *

He is walking with quick strides across the parking lot behind William McKinley High, hands buried deep in the pockets of his stonewashed Levi's. A worn brown duffle bag is hanging off is left shoulder and bounces on his thigh every time he moves the leg for another step forward. He is chewing on his bottom lip absentmindedly while contemplating the events of the day.

It started off like any other day with football practice and the occasional gibe from someone on the team about Glee Club. He has grown too accustomed to it by now to even bother telling the guys to stop. And deep down he is not so sure they actually mean all the things they say. Everyone likes music, the boys on the football team are no exception and they have heard some of the numbers the Glee Club has performed. In fact Sam has even heard some of his teammates humming the melody or quietly singing the lyrics to a few of the songs when they think no one is listening. Every time he catches one of the guys doing that he has to fight the urge to walk up to them and comment on it or smilingly ask them if they are interested in joining Glee Club. He would probably get his ass kicked if he ever did that . . .

It was after football practice however that the day took a different turn. More exactly in the showers directly after the practice.

As Sam had trudged into the shower room he had caught sight of residential bad boy Noah Puckerman standing under the water in one of the stalls. The two had chatted about football practice and such for a few minutes before Puck had brought up Quinn's name. The boy with the Mohawk had asked him what was going on between them which was absurd because they barely even spoke to each other.

So that was what Sam had told the guy. Puck did not seem to understand though and had kept pressing for an answer he thought was more reasonable. That was when Sam's tongue had slipped and he had quietly muttered "Mercedes".

Now, almost six hours later he was mentally scolding himself. Not really because he had accidently told Puck about his true feelings. But because he wasn't sure they were _true_ anymore.

He really liked Mercedes that was no lie. But all the work he put into getting her to understand that was starting to wear on him and he was considering whether it was all worth it. A guy can only take that much, right?

He had told her he loved her, he had serenaded her and he had fought for her. But all of his efforts were greeted with insecurity and double-sided messages from her side. One moment she would act like the feeling was mutual and smile at him and bat her long eyelashes. The next she would walk hand in hand with Shane right in front of him like she didn't care about his feelings at all.

It was tiring and, to say the least, a bit frustrating to not know whether she had the same feelings for him that he had for her or if she would just end up choosing Shane. Somewhere deep down he kind of knew already, but it was too scary to think about because that would mean he would have to let her go. Letting her go automatically means he would have to face the rest of the feelings he has left unprocessed and he isn't sure he is ready for that just yet.

He sighs loudly and pulls his right hand out of his jeans pocket. Around his index finger he is twirling a keychain with three keys and a small leather fob attached to it. One of the keys fits into the locks and ignition of his father's beat-up truck, the other two open the front door to his family's new one story house and unlocks his old bike.

As he reaches the rusty old truck he pushes the car key into the lock and turns it. With a quiet click the door unlock and he pulls the driver's door open. Just as he is about to climb into the vehicle a voice from across the parking lot catches his attention.

Mike Chang is waving vividly and when he notices he has gotten Sam's attention he starts to jog towards the blonde boy and his truck. 'Hey, Sam!' he calls when he has yet a few feet left to run. 'Would you mind giving me a ride home?'

Sam shrugs and answers, 'Uh, no, not at all,' and climbs into the driver seat. 'Hop in.'

The Asian boy pulls the passenger door open and slides onto the soft blue fabric that covers the seat. 'Thanks man,' he says as he closes the door and fastens his seat belt.

'Don't mention it,' Sam says and places the key in the ignition and turns it. 'But where is your car?' Mike scarcely asks for a ride, either he is driving his mother's car to school or he is riding with Tina. So to hear the Asian boy ask for a ride is a first timer for Sam.

Mike chuckles quietly and leans back into the seat. 'Let's just say mum got into a little accident the other day.'

'She's not hurt is she?' Sam exclaims worriedly. He doesn't really know Mike's mother, but to hear that she has been involved in a car accident does scare him a little. People die in automobile accident every day.

The Asian boy shakes his head rapidly. 'No, no, of course not. If she had been hurt do you honestly think I would choose to be in school rather than to be by her side? Who do you take me for Samuel Evans?' Mike teases and leans forwards to look for a CD with decent music to put into the stereo.

Sam frowns and chews on his lip for a short moment. No, Mike would probably not choose school over his mother even if Tina was there. 'No, I guess not. So what happened?'

Mike shakes his head slowly and smiles. 'Actually, it's kind of funny. You know the intersection down by the pond?' Sam nods as he pictures the location before his eyes. 'Mum was on her way home from some meeting with a friend and right after she had made a left turn in that intersection she notices this old man on a bicycle heading towards her. So she is thinking to herself "oh, here comes and old man, I should give him some extra space in case he is wobbling",' Mike says and finishes in a high-pitched voice in an attempt to sound like his mother and Sam has to put in a lot of effort to stifle the laugh that is bubbling in his throat. 'So she steers out onto the roadside and reduces the speed of the car. She's maybe driving twenty mile per hour or something, but she is so busy watching the old man that she doesn't notice the front right tire pulling out onto the grass. The next thing she knows the car if lying in the ditch, back tires still spinning in the air.'

'For real?' Sam asks and slows down as he passes a kindergarten.

Mike nods. 'Yeah. And the front of the car looks like shit. The paint is totally messed up so my dad had to send the car to an auto shop to have it repainted.' He smiles and adds, 'It's all so typical my mother.'

'At least she didn't hit the old man, so I guess she succeeded in her mission,' Sam says and smirks.

'Yeah, at least that's positive. It would have been quite bad if she first hit the old man and _then_ went off the road. In twenty miles per hour . . .' the Asian boy laughs. Then he sighs loudly and asks, 'Don't you have any decent CD's in this car?'

Sam shrugs. 'It's my dad's. I don't know. Have you checked the glove compartment?' When Mike shoots him a glance practically screaming "I already did and all I found was crap" he shakes his head. 'Then I guess I don't have any great CD's in here.'

'We always have the radio,' Mike mumbles and leans forward to turn on the radio. He settles for a channel playing Kanye West's Stronger. 'Speaking of music, what did you think about the girls' number in the auditorium? I thought it was really good.'

The blonde boy nods slowly and rakes a hand through his hair. 'Yeah, it was good. A bit different to not see Rachel in the center of the stage doing the lead vocals though. But over all I think it was great.'

Mike nods slowly and glances out the window at an old woman passing by with an equally old dog in a black leash. They are only a block and a half from his house. 'So what did you think about Quinn?' he asks suddenly. Sam throws him a quick glance in confusion before he turns his focus back onto the road. 'I noticed your eyes kept drifting towards her during the performance.'

The blonde boy shakes his head in denial. 'They did not.' _Or did they? _He wasn't sure.

Mike nods with a smirk plastered on his face. 'But they did. It might have been unintentional, but nevertheless you kept sneaking glances in her direction.'

Sam didn't know how he was supposed to respond to that. He hadn't realized he had been looking at her the way Mike said he had. It sure as hell hadn't been intentional. What if Mercedes saw it? He licks his lips nervously. 'I, uh . . .' he stutters and swallows loudly, before he notices he has reached the street on which Mike lives.

'I believe you need to take some time to think, dude,' Mike says, unbuckles his seat belt and pushes the door open. 'But don't take too long or next thing you know that second chance I sense you're about to get might pass you by.' Before he closes the door he quickly adds, 'Take care, Sam. And thanks for the ride.'

Sam watches the Asian boy walk up the short gravel path to the front door and pull out a keychain from his pocket. When the door is unlocked and Mike turns around and gives Sam a short nod, the blonde boy slowly releases his foot from the clutch and puts the car into motion.

'Maybe Mike is right,' Sam ponders aloud as he steers towards his own home. He isn't completely sure he understands exactly what his friend just told him, but he has a good guess and it raises a lot of questions in his head.

* * *

Author's note

So second chapter is already up, fast isn't it? ;) But I felt kind of bad for stating that this fanfic would lean towards Quinn/Sam centric and then I barely even mentioned Sam in the first chapter. Therefore I decided to post the second chapter a little earlier than I had first planned. Only to introduce Trouty Mouth.

Speaking of Sam . . . I made his family move back to Lima and into a small house. The reason? Some of them will play a rather significant role in future chapters.

The song sung by the Glee girls halfway through the chapter is _I'm So Excited_ by Pointed Sisters, but I guess that wasn't too hard to figure out.

A great thank you to those who have read and don't hesitate to review! :)


	3. Look What You Do to Me

Not Making the Same Mistake Again

Summary: Less than four months remain of the school year, for some students it's the last four months at William McKinley High. Therefore it's natural for the kids to want to make the best of the remaining time. However, a lot of things can go wrong in sixteen weeks . . .

Rated Teen for language primarily. There may be some spoilers for the two first seasons of the show as well as the third up until somewhere short after the episode _Hold on to Sixteen_.

I hope you will enjoy reading this multi-character fanfiction as much as I have enjoyed writing it!

I apologize in advance for any incorrect grammar or typo that may occur.

Reviews are very welcome.

Disclaimer: I do _not_ own _Glee_ nor do I own any of its characters. The same goes for anything involving the music mentioned.

End of author's note. Now on to the story!

* * *

_Chapter 3 – Look what you do to me_

[WEDNESDAY]

She is sitting alone in the Spanish class room. The only thing making her company is the ticking clock on the wall.

Even though the lesson ended close to thirty minutes ago, she is having no intention of leaving whatsoever. The rest of the class, along with Spanish teacher Will Schuester—who doesn't actually know any Spanish . . . strange—left long ago.

She, however, needs the silence. Needs the time alone to think.

It's not that she doesn't like to have Brittany around, because she does, hell she loves having Brittany near. The girl is always happy, she is just hilarious and she always makes you laugh. Sometimes her blonde fellow Cheerio can be a little too much, though. Like excessively happy. Santana did ask once if Brittany was on drugs, but she never got a proper answer. Brittany just started babbling about how she needed money to afford to send her cat Lord Tubbington back to rehab. She had had no idea that her cat had started using heroine again until she found his stuff hidden in the sand in his litter box. That only earned her an annoyed roll of the eye from Santana.

Someone said something to her earlier in the day that she can't quite get out of her head. It was one of the girls from the cheerleading squad, a brunette at the bottom of the pyramid. Santana had been scolding another girl, she believes her name is Madeleine but she isn't sure, for once again not having learned the routine that needs to be perfect if they want to win Nationals this year, when the brunette cheerleader had walked up to her and told her that she thought she was a lousy leader and a horrible person. 'You always yell at us and you treat us like we're garbage. You are a mean person, Lopez,' the girl had said. 'It's not just me who thinks that, everyone does!'

Santana hadn't showed it then, but she had been hurt by what the girl had said. Brittany had tried to comfort her but Santana had pushed her away and told her she was fine. But she wasn't fine. That was partially the reason why the raven haired girl stayed behind when the rest of her friends went to the cafeteria to eat their lunches. She needed to recover and repair the tiny crack in the stone wall that protected her heart and feelings before she could go out and face the other students of McKinley High.

However the recovery isn't going very well . . .

'_Your meanness only highlights your own insecurities'_, Rachel's voice rings in the back of her head and Santana can see the conversation playing before her eyes.

'_Do you ever get tired of tearing other people down?'_ echoes Finn's voice.

_I am not a mean person. It's just that sometimes people really pisses me off! It's usually Rachel friggin' Berry. But her extremely stupid Asian-eyes fetus-face looking boyfriend is a close second, _Santana ponders and places her elbow on the desk and rests her head in her hand. With her other hand she starts to drums her pencil against the table top._ I can be a nice person though, sometimes. Like when I give Blaine advice on how to dress or do his hair. _

'_Your hideous bowties are provoking me.' _

'_I think we'd get further staging a gel-ervention for Blaine than singing lady music.'_

_Okay . . . maybe that was not the best advice but at least I've got balls enough to tell the truth. Sometimes he looks like a cartoon gay nerd from the sixties. It's just ridiculous. _The Latina sighs quietly._ I can be really nice . . . When I want to._

Santana is startled when she feels someone place a large hand on her shoulder.

'Whoa!' Finn exclaims and puts his hands up defensively, almost as if he expects the raven haired girl to beat him up for sneaking up on her. 'Sorry! I, uh, didn't mean to scare you,' he stutters and takes a step away from her.

_Yay! Lumps the Clown, exactly who I want to hang with . . ._

'You didn't scare me,' Santana snaps and straightens her back. 'I was just, uh, just trying to ignore you. Which is getting really hard when you dump one of those humongous meat lumps on my shoulder.'

The Glee Club co-captain flinches. 'Sorry about that,' he says with a confused frown on his face. He stays like that for half a minute, staring completely dumbfounded at the cocky cheerleader.

'So what do you want, Frankenteen?' Santana says as she snaps her fingers in front of the obviously momentarily paralyzed football player. He blinks confused and she sighs annoyed. 'I said "what do you want",' she repeats and turns to look at him, tilting her head slightly up and to the side in a nonchalant and indifferent pose. 'Not that it matters. I mean you barely _ever _have something of importance to say. And when you _do _open your funny looking little potato hole you even make Trouty Mouth seem smart.' Santana leans back in her chair, listening to the plastic seat squeaking against the steel framework.

Finn opens his mouth but soon closes it again. A frown is plastered on his pale face.

Santana says, 'Sorry I didn't hear you?'

The tall boy licks his lips and blinks quickly. 'Why do you always do this, Santana?' He throws a quick glance to the side before he turns his eyes back onto her small figure. 'Mocks everyone that tries to be nice to you? You're just pushing everyone away.' She swallows hard and he draws a quick but deep breath. 'There's just so much a person can take, you know' he tells her. 'And you're pushing it.'

She stares at him with gritted teeth.

'We love you, Santana. I know you are aware of that. And we accept you for who you are. But we can't help you if you don't let us.' Finn crouches and unannounced he grabs Santana's hands. 'You have to let us in, Santana.'

The raven haired girl stares down at her slender hands clasped in between his. They look very small in his abnormally large paws. The tall brunette boy smiles kindly. 'You matter. And I think you are all kinds of awesome. Don't hide that.'

She drops her gaze to the floor. This conversation reminds her very much of the one they had earlier in the year, the one when Finn practically forced her out of the "Flannel closet" as she referred to it as.

She knows that most people already know about her relationship with Brittany. Everybody in Glee Club does. So does the girls on the cheerleading squad, or at least she think they do. The girls are actually pretty bright, even if sassy chick-flicks like _Bring It On _tend to suggest otherwise. Her family knows about her playing for the other team too. But it isn't really _officially _coming out of the closet that scares her most and makes her this sad and angry. It is knowing that her abuela doesn't accept her for who she is. That she doesn't love her anymore. It is knowing that one of her best friends, and the prettiest and probably smartest part of the Unholy Trinity isn't happy. It is knowing that people hates her and think she is mean. It is knowing that soon _all of this_ will be over; Glee Club, the Cheerios her time at McKinley High. It is all coming to an end. And it is a lot scarier than she could have ever imagined it to be.

And when Santana gets scared she gets angry, and when she is angry she is a bitch.

'Are you okay?' Finn asks worriedly and crooks his neck to squint into her dark irises.

_Sometimes he can be a real teddy bear. I just wanna hug you right now, Hudson._

She nods rapidly. 'Fine. I'm fine,' she says and rises.

'You sure?' he queers and stands up as well.

'Yup,' she assures him. 'Never been better.' _Liar! Liar!_

He furrows his brows suspiciously. 'If you say so,' he mumbles quietly.

Then she shakes her head. 'No, not really,' she says and wrinkles her forehead while her mouth forms an inverted grin.

'Uh, uh, ok-ay,' Finn manages nervously. 'Is there something I can do?' he asks in lack of having something better to say.

The girl nods slowly. 'Can you hold me?' she whispers.

Finn's jaw almost drops to the floor when she asks him to hold her, the keyword being _almost_. But as the gentleman he is, or at least tries to be, he does what she has asked him to, he holds her. Folding his long arms around her thin figure he pulls her against his chest.

For the first time ever, Santana appreciates the hugeness of the football player's body, as she breaks down, weeping quietly, tightly enveloped by his arms. She begins to understand what Rachel sees in this Pastry Bag of a man. He's got a great heart, and a very big such.

* * *

Santana walks into the cafeteria with a hamburger, a box of French fries and a big Cola Light in her hands. It's been her lunch practically every day since principle Figgins, once again, cut down on the lunch budget, forcing the cafeteria to stop serve their Tater tots among other dishes. However she handled the situation a little better than Mercedes. Quickly scanning the room for people she knows, she notices Quinn sitting alone at a table in the rear back. The blonde girl looks unusually sad, Santana notes, as she sees the girl poking her food around on her plate. The Latina starts to zigzag between the tables and chairs and students until she reaches the table by which her friend is seated.

''S up, Q?' she asks as she sits down to the blondes left. She doesn't even ask if it's okay for her to join, she just assumes it is. But she receives no answer. 'I say, what's up Q?' she repeats.

Quinn is startled by the mention of her name, well, one of her nicknames. The first letter of her name actually. 'Sorry, I didn't see you,' she says quietly.

'Obviously not,' Santana agrees and glances at Quinn. 'Are you okay?'

The blonde turns her head towards her friend. 'Yes. Why shouldn't I?' she answers softly. Santana observes her carefully, but when she finds no obvious reasons to why Quinn shouldn't be okay, she turns her focus to her food. She un-wraps her burger and opens the box of fries. They smell delicious.

'Ain't you going to eat that?' she asks Quinn when she sees that the girl is still just poking her food around, mixing the ketchup and the mashed potato to a pinkish goo. For the second time this week, they are having mashed potatoes for lunch and it isn't even Thursday yet!

Quinn shrugs. 'I kind of lost my appetite.'

Santana nods and pushed the box of French fries closer to Quinn. 'I'm feeling generous today.'

'Thank you, Santana, but I'm good.'

The Latina raises a questioning eyebrow, but Quinn doesn't notice it. She is too busy watching a table at the other side of the cafeteria. Santana takes a big bite of her burger. 'For real, Q, what's up? You're freaking me out here. It's like you've turned into some ghost in a human disguise. It's creepy.' She wipes her mouth with a napkin. 'Quinn?'

Quinn is startled when she feels Santana's warm hand on the back of her neck. The Latina is carefully shaking her to get her attention. The action reminds the raven haired girl awfully a lot of what happened in the Spanish class room between Finn and her only an hour ago. 'Hello, Quinn Fabray, are you in there?' Santana hollers into Quinn's ear.

'What are you doing, Santana?' Quinn exclaims and winces. Even though the raven haired girl didn't grab her neck that hard, she can still feel the skin sting where the hand just had been holding on to her.

'Trying to get contact. What does it look like? _Gosh!_' She shakes her head. 'You're like completely up there!'

The blonde lowers her gaze and shrugs. 'Guess I've been kind of "up there" all week . . .' She sighs.

'There's obviously something bothering you,' Santana starts. 'I hate talking about feelings and stuff, but seriously, Q, tell me what's going on.'

Quinn sighs loudly. 'I can't.'

'You _can't_ or you _won't_?' the Latina asks firmly, crossing her arms over her chest.

Quinn turns her head away. After a while she quietly says, 'Both.'

'Okay, I'm giving up! But don't come running to me when you discover you're way over your head. I've already given you your chance. Take it or leave it.'

There is no answer so Santana takes it as a sign that Quinn either got her message and has decided not to talk or that the girl is just too off today to understand it.

Ten minutes later Santana is finishing her lunch and Quinn still isn't talking.

Santana is usually—hell, _never_—the one to worry about people or think about their feelings and stuff like that, at least that's the impression she's been trying to give people. And been pretty successful with! But right about now she cannot stop worrying about Quinn. The blonde girl is one of her few close friends. And something is obviously wrong with the pretty cheerleader. The conversation she had with Finn earlier that day is still fresh in her memory and, even though she will never admit it, talking to him actually made her feel better. Maybe she should make Quinn open up to her. Perhaps that would make the ex-cheerleader feel better.

_The girl's been staring out into space for like eternity now . . . _Santana notes, while watching Quinn. She leans in closer to the blonde, turning her head in the same direction as the former head cheerleader. She finds herself looking at a table at the other side of the cafeteria. A table where a couple of their friends from Glee Club is seated. Santana glances back at Quinn. _What is she doing here?_ she asks herself. _Why doesn't she sit with them?_

She turns her attention back to the other table. _Who's sitting there?_ She has to squint to make out all the faces perfectly. _Tina, Mike, Artie, Mercedes, that new kid, what's his name? Ryan, Roy . . .Ro . . . Rory, right. Rory. And who else is there? _Santana focuses even harder. _Oh, yeah, Finn is there too. I thought I saw his misshaped head. Then the dwarf should be there with him . . . yes, there she is. _Santana chuckles despite herself, thinking that Finn has gotten pretty boring, geeky and very unattractive since he hooked up with that annoying little diva called Rachel Berry. But he has also gotten more humble and friendly, but that she will never admit to anyone.

She lets her eyes sweep over the table one last time. _Puckerman isn't there is he? No. But Trouty Mouth is . . . wait, what is he doing?_ Santana's mouth drops open. _Is he holding hands with? No . . . it can't be. He and Mercedes? _She shakes her head._ Gosh._

Santana turns back to Quinn, watching her for a moment before she taps her shoulder lightly, forcing the blonde girl to look at her. 'Don't tell me you still desiderate Grouper Mouth?' Santana says.

Quinn gazes down into her half-filled plate. She hasn't eaten anything; it was half filled already when she brought it to this table.

'Oh come on Q!' says the raven haired girl and scoots closer to her friend. 'You deserve better than him. Besides he's lousy in bed.' From Santana's words Quinn shifts her eyes slightly but never enough to have them leave the mashed potato and meatballs in front of her.

The Latina sighs. 'Okay, I lied, I haven't slept with him, but I meant what I said about you deserving better. He's broke, he spent last year living in a motel room and he's proven to be quite an idiot for leaving you.'

'It's not his fault his family is broke,' Quinn whispers. Santana almost expected her to make a comment about how she was the one to tell Sam about the kiss Quinn shared with Finn, but to the Latina's surprise the blonde former cheerleader turns quiet again.

'Oh come on, Q, you're missing the point here!' the raven haired girl exclaims and grabs her friend by her shoulders. 'Look at me!' Reluctantly the blonde girl levels her gaze. 'Look at you . . .' Santana says with a slight element of sadness in her tone. 'This is not the old Quinn Fabray I used to know. Where is that man-eater with the huge aplomb and the charisma that could light up a room?'

Staring deep into the dark eyes of her friend Quinn quietly mumbles, 'Gone . . .' before she turns her gaze away. She doesn't feel like having this conversation right now – preferably, never.

'No, no, no,' Santana says while cupping her friend's face in her hands, forcing her to look back at her. 'You listen to me now, Fabray. There is no one at this school that is _more _beautiful than you, _not even me_, you are an amazing singer, and dancer, and there is not one single boy at this school who hasn't had a big crush on you, you hear that. And the girls that hate you and trash-talk you, you know _why _they do that?'

'Because I'm a mean bitch,' Quinn says sadly.

'Uh . . . well, partially because of _that_ . . . but, uh, mostly because they're jealous of you.' Santana stops to look at her blonde friend. 'You're amazing, Quinn, no one can take that away from you. You read me?' _Being nice actually feels kind of good,_ Santana notes to herself.

A tiny smile appears on Quinn's face as her friend probably said the first ten nice words she has ever said, and all that in one speech.

'Hey, come here,' the Latina says and reaches her arms out towards Quinn and pulls her into a tight embrace. Meanwhile she makes a mental note to thank Finn later.

'I love you,' Quinn sobs into the raven haired girl's neck. Santana knows that the blonde doesn't really _love_ love her, but she loves her as a friend.

'I know, I love you too.'

* * *

Author's note

The third chapter let us see a softer part of Santana, both when she broke down in front of Finn but also when she tried to comfort Quinn. And I think it is kind of cute how she can see right through the Ice Queen facade Quinn is trying to put up.

I haven't forgotten about Sue's warning to crush Will or Puck asking the girls in Glee Club to help him execute his little plan. All that will be dealt with in due time. Some of it already in the next chapter.


	4. The Look

Not Making the Same Mistake Again

Summary: Less than four months remain of the school year, for some students it's the last four months at William McKinley High. Therefore it's natural for the kids to want to make the best of the remaining time. However, a lot of things can go wrong in sixteen weeks . . .

Rated Teen for language primarily. There may be some spoilers for the two first seasons of the show as well as the third up until somewhere short after the episode _Hold on to Sixteen_.

I hope you will enjoy reading this multi-character fanfiction as much as I have enjoyed writing it!

I apologize in advance for any incorrect grammar or typo that may occur.

Reviews are very welcome.

Disclaimer: I do_not_ own _Glee_ nor do I own any of its characters. The same goes for anything involving the music mentioned.

End of author's note. Now on to the story!

* * *

_Chapter 4 – The Look_

[THURSDAY]

'Why are we in the auditorium, Mr. Schue?' Finn queers confused as he takes a seat besides Rachel in the second row.

'Puck's request,' the Spanish teacher/Glee Club coach says and takes a seat as well. Finn frowns and mumbles something that earns him a pinch in the side and a distorted glance from Rachel.

_Ouch_, he mouths and shoots her a questioning look. He can never understand why she is being so protective and caring about Puck. Sure he likes the guy too; they have known each other since freshmen year, but it bugs him that he means so much to Rachel. He use to tell himself that it is because they are both Jewish, that they feel a connection through religion, but at the same time he knows that it doesn't make much sense, since Puck isn't even that religious.

'Be quiet', Rachel mouths back and then directs her focus to the stage, which is still empty.

'Where is everyone else?' Mercedes queers from her position next to Sam on the row behind Finn and Rachel.

'Be patient. You will see,' Schue responds. Mercedes shrugs and glances at Sam who returns the gesture.

Seconds later Blaine and Kurt stroll in. They sit down next to Mr. Schue.

'Okay,' Schue says after a moment. 'Looks like everyone that's supposed to be here is here.' He lets his eyes wander over the heads of his students. _Finn, Rachel, Kurt, Blaine, Quinn, Rory, Sugar, Artie, Sam and Mercedes._ 'Yes.' Then he calls out, 'Then the stage is yours, Puck.'

'Thanks, Mr. Schue,' the boy with the Mohawk says as he steps onstage. Behind him walk Tina, Mike, Brittany and Santana. They are all dressed in contemporary clothes. Lots of black, and red and leather that is. The girls are wearing high heeled boots and the two boys are sporting black Converse All Stars. Puck has a red Gibson Les Paul in his hand. The Jewish boy takes center stage as he nods for the band to get ready. Tina, Brittany, Santana and Mike line up behind Puck. 'One, two, one, two, three, four,' he counts and then he starts playing his guitar. Soon the drums kick in and close after that the keyboard.

_One, two, three, four _

_Walking like a man  
Hitting like a hammer  
She's a juvenile scam  
Never was a quitter  
Tasty like a raindrop  
She's got the look_

_(She's got the look)_

The way Puck sings and moves on stage draws amused giggles from all of the girls that aren't onstage, including Rachel, much to Finn's dislike.

For the second verse Santana tune up behind Puck for background vocals. And for _wild dog_ Mike, Tina and Brittany jump in, singing it in the deepest key they can muster.

_Heavenly bound  
Cause heaven's got a number  
When she's spinning me around  
Kissing is a color  
Her loving is a wild dog  
She's got the look  
_

When Puck sings the line _What in the world can make a brown-eyed girl turn blue_ he cannot help but to glance at Quinn. The beautiful blonde is smiling broadly and clapping her hands to the beat along with the rest of the Glee kids that aren't on stage. Well, everybody except Finn, who seems to be a little jealous of the affection Puck has on the girls. It reminds him very much of the _Justin Bieber Experience_ that Sam put together last year in an attempt to win Quinn back.

Meanwhile Santana struts around the stage singing _She's got the look_ as an echo to what Puck's voice just told, while Tina, Mike and Brittany creates a choir to support Puck on the lead vocals.

_She's got the look _

_(She's got the look) _

_She's got the look _

_(She's got the look)  
What in the world can make a brown-eyed girl turn blue  
When everything I'll ever do I'll do for you  
And I go la la la la la she's got the look_

Mike joins Puck for the next verse, giving it a deeper tone. And on _head drum_ Tina and Brittany chime in. Then to top the verse off Mike together with the boys from the band repeats the last line sung by Puck.

_Fire in the ice  
Naked to the t-bone  
Is a lover's disguise  
Banging on the head drum  
Shaking like a mad bull  
She's got the look_

_(She's got the look)_

Sugar is wolf whistling and Rachel, Mercedes and Quinn are smiling like maniacs. _Mission accomplished_, thinks Puck as he flashes a quick toothy smile in between the verses.

_Swaying to the band  
Moving like a hammer  
She's a miracle man  
Loving is the ocean  
Kissing is the wet sand  
She's got the look_

_(She's got the look)  
_

Moving into the second chorus he winks to the girls in the audience, one in particular, before he shows off some pretty decent dance moves. Not as good as Mike's and Brittany's though, but still pretty damn good.

_She's got the look _

_(She's got the look) _

_She's got the look _

_(She's got the look)  
What in the world can make a brown-eyed girl turn blue  
When everything I'll ever do I'll do for you  
And I go la la la la la she's got the look  
_

During the instrumental break Mike and Brittany show off some rather amazing moves that make most of the crowd go 'Wow!' while Puck takes the opportunity to show off his talent with the guitar.

For the next verse the boy with the Mohawk drop his voice a key and returns to the middle of the stage.

_Walking like a man  
Hitting like a hammer  
She's a juvenile scam  
Never was a quitter  
Tasty like a raindrop  
She's got the look_

The girls: Brittany, Santana and Tina, tune up behind him.

_She goes_

_(Na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na  
Na na na na She's got the look)_

_Yeah!_

After finishing the humming Santana winks deviously and flirtatiously at Puck and it makes him laugh so much that he almost comes in late for the third chorus. Santana once again steps in as his lead background singer while the other girls team up behind her.

She's got the look

_(She's got the look) _

_She's got the look _

_(She's got the look)  
What in the world can make a brown-eyed girl turn blue  
When everything I'll ever do I'll do for you  
And I go la la la la la she's got the look_

_(She's got the look)_

_(She's got the look)  
_

The girls in the crowd are now dancing in their seats, wide smiles on their faces, much to Puck amusement.

_What in the world can make you so blue?_

_When everything I'll ever do I'll do for you_

_And I go la la la la la _

Everybody in the auditorium tunes up for the humming, well, everyone except Finn Hudson. The quarterback is still dwelling over the memories that this performance brings back, though the song itself has no resemblance to the one Sam along with Puck, Artie and Mike sang last spring.

_One, two, one, two, three, four_

_(Na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na  
Na na na na She's got the look)_

Usually the energy in a number peeks mid-through a song, but in this case it seems like the energy and the intensity only increases the longer the performance goes on.

_She goes _

_(Na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na  
Na na na na She's got the look)_

_She's got the look_

Puck ends his performance by pointing out into the crowd, and more precisely at one blonde girl, and by the way that she suddenly starts to blush he establishes that she gets the message.

'Wow! Puck, that was . . . intense,' Mr. Schue cheers and claps his hands. He is standing up in his seat. 'Worth another round of applause!' The rest of Glee Club joins him and someone—a boy—even whistles. Puck set his money on Sam or Artie.

'Thanks, Schue,' Puck says and wipes at his forehead where sprinkles of perspiration are appearing. It's crazy how hot it gets under those spotlights!

Brittany gives him a hug from the side. 'That was fun!' she points out and grins.

'Of course it was! I was there,' Puck notes confidently and nudges her in the side making her shriek and then break out in laughter.

'Hey, leave _my_ _girl_ alone!' Santana grunts, with fake anger. She reaches her hand out and Brittany grabs it while smirking at Puck. The Latina bumps her shoulder into Puck's as she passes him by. 'I saw that,' she whispers and winks at him before nodding towards the audience who has yet to leave their seats. The boy bites down on his lip and he feels his cheeks heat up a little. _Was it that obvious?_

* * *

She hasn't always been like this, obsessed with order and clean. She remembers telling William in one uncomfortable moment that she as a kid had dreamed of working at a farm. A real farm, one with animals and tractors. Her brother had crashed that dream into tiny little shards though, by pushing her into the dunghill. She shudders at the thought that brings the hideous and sticking smell of dung into her nostrils and she starts to wipe her desk off for the third time today, and it is not yet passed lunch time, just to push aside the memories. _I've got to do something about thi—_

Interrupted by a firm yet, somehow, hesitant knock on the top to floor glass door, she instinctively draws her hand—the rubber glove clad one holding a duster—back and places it in her lap where it is concealed by the desk.

As she realizes that the hand that knocked on her door belongs to a student and not a certain curly haired teacher she lets out a breath of relief she didn't even know she was holding. She motions for the blonde boy to enter.

Peeling the tight rubber glove off her delicate hand she tips her head to the side, trying to get a read of the young man at the other side of her desk. After a short moment of attempted mind reading she comes to terms with the fact that she has no idea what she is doing. She cannot figure him out – his expression is too complex. So instead she asks gently, 'What is troubling you, Sam?'

The blonde boy blinks as if he did notice her just now though he was the one to seek her out. 'Uh, yeah . . .' He clears his throat. 'There is this thing . . .'

Emma tips her head slightly forward in a gesture for Sam to continue but he just hesitantly gazes at his clasped hands that are resting in his lap. 'Does this have anything to do with your family, Sam?' she tries, her eyebrows knitted together in a worried expression. 'I mean, after what happened last year, with the bankruptcy and you losing your home and all that. No one should have to go through that in your age. It is absolutely understandable if you feel a little down now and then. You have after all lost your home, your girlfriend—Quinn left you for Finn, didn't she?—and you had to leave your family behind in Kentucky. That most have been _so_ hard . . . And I've heard about you little part time_ job_ at the bar – it was bad, really bad, Sam, but you did it for a good cause so it makes it a bit easier to accept—'

Sam rapidly shakes his head and holds up a hand to make the red headed student counselor stop talking. 'No. No, my family is fine. This has nothing to do with them. They're doing—we're doing okay.'

Emma nods as eagerly as the blonde boy just shakes his head. _How come I always make the wrong assumptions? God, so embarrassing!_ 'That is good, Sam. I am happy for you. That your family is doing better, I mean, not about how you are feeling right now. No. No.' She takes a nervous breath. 'You know what I mean, don't you? Yes?' She fakes a smile. _Okay, that wasn't good. _She clears her throat. 'So, Sam, what is it that is bothering you?'

She watches him kneed his hands together and that is when she decides to reach for her brochures. She recalls from the _Rocky Horror Picture Show_ which the Glee Club did last year that Sam had some issues concerning his looks. Proud that she believes she has figured out what is bothering the young man she hands him a purple brochure with green letters and an animated Brad Pitt that are laughing at a skinny high school boy that are curled up in fetal position crying. _I cry at night and I hate myself for not looking like Brad Pitt_, the green lettering says.

Sam gazes at it with tired eyes and then he arcs a skeptic brow. 'Thanks, Ms. Pillsbury, but I don't have a body dysmorphic disorder.' _Liar! Liar!_ He can hear his subconscious screams back at him.

'Oh,' Emma clears her throat and withdraws the booklet. 'Uh, well . . . that is a good thing. It really is . . . but what is it that is bothering you the, Sam?' Sam turns his head and stares out through the window. Outside kids has started to unwrap their sandwiches and uncap their Coke bottles. 'Sam?'

The blonde boy snaps his head in the direction of the sweet voice. 'Huh?' He blinks and then he seems to remember the conversation they were having. 'I don't know how to explain . . .' he begins.

_Please don't say that you have gotten some girl pregnant! And don't say that you have robbed an old lady to get a couple of dollars to buy beer or Xbox games! Please! _

Sam sighs and rakes a hand through his blonde thatch. A few golden strands fall into his eyes and he absentmindedly blows them away as he ponders. 'I, I kinda feel like I'm split,' he begins. 'In here,' he continues and dab his broad chest.

_In your heart_, Emma notes and nods. There is vulnerability and insecurity in his voice that Emma cannot help but to feel her heart ache at. When she looks at him, in this poor state, he is an epitome of the young innocent angelic blonde boy that only exists in the movies. The thing is though that this absolutely adorable boy is real and he has very, very realistic feelings.

'I don't, I don't know what to do,' he shrugs dejected.

'Uh, well . . . is there a girl involved?' she asks and peers into his deep emerald orbs. They are practically pleading for her help, for a piece of good advice. Slowly Sam nods.

_Okay, so there is a girl . . ._ 'What is it about that girl that makes you feel split?' To be honest she believes that it is not really her thing to poke around in this young man's love life but he wants advice—he truly seem to need them—and in order for her to be able to give him advice she needs background information to work with.

'I, I'm in love with Mercedes,' he blurts, the words tripping over each other as they stumble out of his mouth.

A bit startled by Sam's sudden and rather loud confession, Emma winces, though it is only to lean forward again a few seconds later. 'Oh, okay. Well, I think you made that pretty clear the last time you were here. With her.' Emma believes she recalls something about Sam twittering that he thinks Mercedes smells good the last time Sam and Mercedes paid a visit to her office. 'But if you are so certain about your love for Ms. Jones then what is it that makes you think that what you feel _now_ has anything to do with her?'

'I don't know . . .'

'Do you know if the feelings you have are mutual? Has she expressed her love to you? Emma asks.

He shakes his head slowly. 'She hasn't,' he whispers. 'But I think she loves me . . . Maybe.' He bites down on his lip. 'Or . . . I don't know. Maybe. She has broken up with Shane.' The last part is said with a bit more confidence. Then he adds, 'But I don't know,' and sighs.

'Know about what?'

'Pardon me?' Sam blinks and asks confused.

The red headed woman smiles sympathetically and then she says, 'You said, _but I don't know?_ What is it that you don't know?'

'Uh.' He swallows and licks his lips. 'If she really loves me, I guess. I mean, for _real_. _Love_ me.'

Emma sighs silently. Giving advice on love to teenagers is not the easiest thing, especially when you went through high school without having a single boyfriend, or male friend for that matter.

'Okay, uh . . . Sam, I can honestly not give you any good advice when it comes to love, since I didn't, well you know . . . have a . . . yeah, uh. My marriage didn't really . . . Anyways.' She clears her throat. 'You simply have to listen to your heart, even if it doesn't speak so loudly or clear all the time. And even if it speaks a completely foreign language.' She smiles slightly. It is a kind warm one. 'And sometimes your head and mind needs a moment to translate and interpret what the heart is saying.' She finishes off by wrinkling her forehead and crooking her neck in a simple gesture that is asking the blonde boy if he understands.

Sam nods slowly and offers a wry smile. That simple smile causes Emma to question though whether or not he had really understood what she had told him, but as she doesn't feel like pushing it—the boy seems to have enough to think about as it is—she instead says, 'That's good, Sam.' She smiles. 'If you need to expectorate again, you know where to find me. Okay?'

He nods and rises. 'Thank you, Ms. Pillsbury.' When he is halfway through the door he stops. 'Mr. Schue is lucky to have you,' he says, offers her a half smile and then he leaves.

* * *

'I love astronomy,' he says with a drawl and gazes up to the galactic mobiles with the brightly colored orbs. 'Something 'bout all that space makes my problems seem kinda small.' Pointing at a red papier-mâché ball with a diameter of about twelve inches Sam says, again with a drawl, 'That one's Venus. Planet of _love_.' He turns to Quinn.

'It's actually Mars. Planet of _war_,' Quinn says, her hands on her hips. She is determined not to fall for the new guy's lame attempt at seducing her. _Though he is kinda cute . . ._

Sam sniffs quietly and glances at Quinn from his position behind her. After a moment he asks, 'Which one are we on?'

'Earth,' Quinn responds after a few seconds of complete silence and begins to walk away from him. 'So why don't you come back to it and talk to me about duets.' She turns back around to face him again. 'Tell me _why_ I should be singing with you.'

'Okay.' Sam grabs his guitar. 'Well, we'll start with choreography. Singing will be easy so I'll start playing.' And so he does with a boyish smirk. Quinn smiles slightly.

After playing for a moment he says to her, 'And now, get behind me.' She looks up to the side, a slow half roll of her eyes, signaling that his request is a bit odd and inappropriate. 'Get behind me,' he whispers. 'Good,' he says as she does as he has told her. 'Now grab my hips.' He smiles and she sniffs, a crimson shade sneaking up on her cheeks. 'And start swaying,' he says and begins to slowly swing back and forth.

Quinn, feeling very uncomfortable and nervous, stokes her eyebrows with her left hand thumb and index finger and then pats Sam on the shoulder with her other hand.

'And now, here's the cool part.' He stops playing. 'Give me your hand.' She lifts her left hand and he takes it in his. It looks so small in his. So delicate and fragile. 'Do you know how to play?' he asks, glancing at her.

She shakes her head slowly and says in a voice not louder that a whisper, 'No.'

'It's easy. Let's put that finger there.' He places her fingers on the frat, one by one. 'It's just like that.' He begins to play. 'Now do it fast, back and forth. There you go.'

As they finish the short guitar lesson he is gazing at her. His eyes holding hers, never looking away. He's got deep captivating eyes. They are not blue, not brown and they are not green either. They are like a mix of the three. Then he slowly leans closer. Just before their lips is about to meet she pulls back, holding her hands up as if to keep him away from her.

'No, no. I can't do this,' she says. 'This year is about me, and don't say that I'm selfish, because you have _no_ idea how much I have given—'

'I wasn't, I wasn't gonna—'

'I've been down this path before. I know this feeling.' Pause. 'L, l, like I need you! Duets don't work for me. And I don't _need_ you.' She turns her back to Sam. 'What I _need_ is to find a way to keep Santana _off _my heals. What I _need_ is to find a way to torture Rach,' she says turning back to face him again.

'Look I'm, I'm sorry—'

'And I_ need_ to start learning to ignore people.' She stares at him with moist in her eyes and her lips curled into an inverted half smirk.

'I'm, I'm sorry. I shouldn't . . . I shouldn't have tried that.'

'I'm sorry. I made a mistake, and um . . . I don't want to sing with you,' she says in a flat tone and leaves the astronomy room.

Next thing she knows she wakes up in her bed. Her cheeks are wet with tears and her hands are shaking. It is still dark outside so she guesses that it can't be later than 6 A.M. but just to be sure she leans over towards her nightstand and checks her phone, 3.14 A.M.

_God, how am I supposed to go back to sleep now?_ she sighs and slowly swings her legs over the edge of the bed. She lets her feet make contact with the floor and then she stands up and walks across the carpet over to the window. It is completely empty out on the street, '_The benefit of living in a high-end neighborhood,_' her mother often tells her. Or that was when her mother still talked to her.

She sits down on the bench bellow the window. By putting her elbows on the window sill she can support her head in her hands and still sit in a comfortable position. She sighs again as she wipes away a tear from her eye. _How could I let myself sink this low? _she asks herself. _I used to be so perfect . . . so pure. _She swallows hard. _Captain of the Cheerios, president of the Celibacy Club, straight A's and a perfect rep, I dated the starting quarterback and everybody would part in the hallway as I walked in. I was the most popular girl at McKinley High. The most perfect Christian girl and the nicest daughter. And I blew it all up . . ._ Another tear falls from her eye. _And look at you now, Quinn. The epitome of a messed up teenage girl. _She sighs heavily yet again. _How could I even begin to think that he would want me back? I don't deserve him. He gave me a promise to be true and to always love me and I stabbed him in the back as soon as he turned around._

* * *

Author's note

The forth chapter starts off with Puck's little surprise (you remember the one he asked Brittany, Santana and Tina to help him with in the second chapter?). The song they performed was _The Look_ by Roxette.

The story then moves on with Sam asking Ms. Pillsbury for some advice on love and at the end of the chapter Quinn wakes up in the dead of the night in tears due to a nightmare.

Hope you liked the chapter and don't forget to review! :)


	5. Complicated

Not Making the Same Mistake Again

Summary: Less than four months remain of the school year, for some students it's the last four months at William McKinley High. Therefore it's natural for the kids to want to make the best of the remaining time. However, a lot of things can go wrong in sixteen weeks . . .

Rated Teen for language primarily. There may be some spoilers for the two first seasons of the show as well as the third up until somewhere short after the episode _Hold on to Sixteen_.

I hope you will enjoy reading this multi-character fanfiction as much as I have enjoyed writing it!

I apologize in advance for any incorrect grammar or typo that may occur.

Reviews are very welcome.

Disclaimer: I do_not_ own _Glee_ nor do I own any of its characters. The same goes for anything involving the music mentioned.

End of author's note. Now on to the story!

* * *

_Chapter 5 – Complicated_

[FRIDAY - part I]

There is a knock on the door and Emma momentarily loses focus on the tiny piece of pink gum that has gotten stuck under her shoe. For the last thirty minutes or so, she has desperately been trying to remove it without damaging the cream colored mocha shoe or getting the sticky and disgusting goo on her hands. _Stupid gum, _she mutters.

'Do you have a moment?' the girl who knocked on the glass door mouths and Emma rapidly nods her head, causing the red locks to bounce on her shoulders. She places the shoe on the floor and pushes with one hand on the head of small pump bottle that is standing on her desk. A transparent disinfectant liquid drips into her other hand, which she has placed under the mouth of the pump.

'Please, sit down,' she greets the girl in a sing-song voice as she zealously rubs the disinfectant into her skin. 'So what can I do for you, Mercedes?' Emma asks as the dark skinned girl takes a seat in one of the black plastic chairs on the opposite side of the desk.

'Uh, I kind of need some advice, Ms. P,' Mercedes states and straightens her colorful tee.

'Of course, Mercedes. What can I help you with?' Emma queers and turns one-hundred-and-eighty degrees in her chair to get a stack of brochures.

'No!' the raven haired girl exclaims. Then she adds in a much calmer voice, 'I don't think I'll need any of those. I just . . . need someone to talk to.'

Emma blinks, surprised by Mercedes reaction to the colorful and rather witty brochures. 'Oh. Okay. Well . . . what is bothering you, sweetie?' she asks and watches the otherwise so secure and self-confident girl squirm in her seat. _Not another teen pregnancy. Please don't let it be another pregnant girl_, she silently prays.

But instead of answering the student counselor's question the raven haired girl wrinkles her forehead and asks, 'Are you okay, Ms. P?'

'What? Oh . . . Yes, of course! I'm fine. Very good. Why wouldn't I be?' she rambles.

'Ok-ay,' Mercedes says with a drawl. 'You seemed a bit . . . anxious, to be honest.'

The read headed woman chuckles nervously. 'No, I am not anxious. No, no. Why would I be? It is not like I'm young and pregnant or something. Yeah . . .'

Mercedes arcs an eyebrow. 'What are you talking about, Ms. P?' she asks worriedly.

'I know it isn't easy being your age . . . and boys, well, they can be persistent. And unfortunately they don't use protection half as often as they should do and—'

'Hold on a sec,' Mercedes says putting up a warning hand. 'What are you twiddling about?'

Emma blinks, her honey colored eyes wide open. 'You aren't . . .' she mumbles.

'Aren't what?' Mercedes presses.

'You aren't pregnant?' Emma's question comes.

And now it is Mercedes' turn to blink in surprise. Then she laughs. 'No, no, no, Ms. P. Not me. Where have you gotten that crazy idea?'

The red head starts sorting the stands with brochures on her desk in alphabetical order. 'Uh, I just assumed. You didn't seem as confident as you usually do and when thinking back about Quinn Fabray and her pregnancy. She lost a lot of self-esteem.' Emma nods as if to convince herself that she hadn't just made up the resemblance between Mercedes behavior a few minutes ago with the one of Ms. Fabray when she revealed to Emma about her unplanned pregnancy almost two years ago. 'Yes, she looked a lot like you when she came in here. A bit more panicked though. But the resemblance is there. Yes.'

Mercedes nods slowly. 'Ok-ay,' she says. 'Well, you don't have to worry, Ms. P. I'm not knocked up.' A rush of relief sweeps over Emma's face and judging by the small smile on Mercedes' face it didn't go unnoticed.

'You will not have to be worried that something like that will happen to me. I know how to say no,' she assures with a proud smile. And for some reason Emma believes the girl.

'I am glad to hear that, Mercedes,' Emma says happily. 'I am sorry I jumped to conclusions.' The black girl waves the apology away with a simple hand gesture. 'What was it you wanted to talk to me about?' Emma asks, remembering that the young Glee Club member didn't just drop by her office to chat about nothing in particular.

Mercedes sighs. 'Well, I'm perplexed,' she says and Ms. Pillsbury nods for her to continue. 'I thought I was in love with Shane, but then Sam came back. And now I'm not sure.'

'Are you still together with Shane?' Mercedes shakes her head. 'Do you still have feelings for him?' Emma continues and the dark skinned girl shrugs. As she has just told the student counselor; she isn't sure anymore. 'Do you love Sam?' Emma asks with a compassionate smile on her face.

Mercedes lets her eyes wander around the room. 'I, I don't know.'

The student counselor nods thoughtfully. 'If you picture your future, which one of them is there with you?' Emma reaches across the desk and takes Mercedes' hands in hers. This, she notes, she wouldn't have been able to do a few years back, touching another person like this without feeling disgust and a sickening need to wash her hands three times afterwards.

The girl swallow and opens her mouth as if she wants to say something, but apparently she thinks twice about it and ends up closing it again. Emma rubs the girls' hands with her thumbs. A small but supportive smile is playing on her lips. She can see parts of herself in this young black girl. Both parts she is proud of and parts that she wishes she could free the girl of.

'Honestly,' she begins and Emma nods rapidly to encourage her to continue. 'I can't see either of them.' The tone in her voice, Emma notes, almost sounds ashamed.

'That is perfectly okay, Mercedes,' ensures Emma.

'Then why does it feel so bad?'

The red headed woman shakes her head. 'I don't know.' She takes a deep breath. 'Okay. Let's try this: why can't you go on with your relationship with Shane. Isn't he a nice boy?'

Mercedes is quiet for a short moment. 'He is,' she says.' But, but I think I like Sam more.'

'So you would pick Sam over Shane, is that correct?' she asks and notes, _I'm pretty good at this. Watch out Dr. Phil! _

'I guess so . . .'

'Then why aren't you with him? Doesn't he love you?' The questions are risky, she knows, but without asking them they won't be getting anywhere with this. Of course Emma already knows how Sam feels—or at least how he says he feels, he seemed a bit confused about his feelings as well—but she cannot tell Mercedes about any of that. She does after all have confidentiality.

The girl contemplates the questions for a moment and then she sighs. 'He says he loves me.'

Emma nods thoughtfully. 'Yes. But?'

'I am not sure _I _love him . . .' Mercedes mumbles.

'But you said you _loved_ Shane, well, almost, but that you liked Sam more. Isn't that to love him?'

Mercedes shakes her head and shrugs at the same time. 'I don't know . . . I guess it is.'

'So?' Emma asks in a light voice.

'I'm, I'm not sure he really loves me . . .'

Emma's eyebrows knit together and she purses her lips into a confused pout. 'I'm not sure I'm following now, Mercedes. Didn't you just say that he had told you that he loves you?'

Mercedes bites down on her lip, it is a rare thing to see the girl do. 'He did, but I'm not sure that he is being completely honest . . . to himself.'

Ms. Pillsbury wrinkles her forehead even more. 'How come?'

'I think that he might still have feelings for someone else,' Mercedes tells and sighs. She seems to be a bit disappointed.

'Oh . . .'

Mercedes nods slowly, her thoughts seeming to be somewhere else for a moment. 'And she used to be my friend,' she mumbles. 'I don't want to be with him just to make her jealous.'

Emma glances down at her hands. What the raven haired girl is saying is striking maybe a little too close at home. 'Is that what you feel right now?' she queers after a short sequence of silence. 'That you are with him to make _her_ sad?'

'I'm not sure.' The black girl has withdrawn her hands from Emma's and is now kneading the hem of her colorful tee shirt.

'Do you want to be friends with her again?'

'Yes.' Something flickers in the girls' eyes, but the red head cannot put her finger on what it is. 'What should I do, Ms. P?'

Emma rubs her temples as if it would help the ideas to come to her. She chews on her lip as she contemplates the options that she can find for the young Glee Club member. 'I, I think you should talk to Sam. Tell him how _you_ feel.' She nods to herself. _Yes that is a good idea._ 'And I think that you maybe should confront him about following _his_ heart. Maybe he's just as confused as you, and maybe he does only have eyes for you.' _Hopefully,_ she wishes. She doesn't want to see the girl get her heart broken. 'Also, if you want your friend back, perhaps you should talk to her. Sort things out.' _Hm, maybe that's not as simple as it sounds, depending on who the other girl is_. 'Maybe she isn't as mad with you as you think'

'It sounds so easy,' Mercedes says and smiles sadly.

Emma nods and offers a compassionate smile. 'It does. But we know different, don't we?'

Mercedes nods slowly. 'Yes, we do.' Then she rises and walks to the door. 'Thank you, Ms. P.'

'You're welcome, Mercedes,' she says and waves as the girl leaves the room.

_Where was I?_ She glances around the room and her eyes get caught on the cream colored shoe on the floor. _Oh, yeah . . . Stupid gum . . ._ She grabs a set of rubber glows from her top drawer, a sponge and some hand sanitizer. _Stupid, stupid gum . . ._ she mutters.

* * *

Unlocking and opening the robust front door, Finn hears the sound of voices from inside the house. He didn't expect anybody to be home, especially not since the front door was locked. Lima isn't a town where you have to worry too much about burglaries and such stuff, so they usually keep the door unlocked when someone is home.

'Mom?' he calls out and closes the door behind him. He knows Burt is at the garage so there is no idea in calling his name. 'Kurt? Hello?'

There's no answer.

Hanging his WMHS letterman jacket on the coat rack and kicking off his muddy All Star's, he listens intensely to what he believes might be voices. He cannot quite make them out over the disturbance from the next door neighbors who are tearing down their old garage for some reason. It sounds like the voices are coming from downstairs though, so he opens the door to the stair case.

'What are you guys doing?' he asks as he reaches the bottom stair and finds his mother and Kurt putting out overstuffed pillows in dark shades of purple, red and green.

'Oh, hi, honey!' his mother, Carole, quips as she notices her son. 'I'm just helping Kurt prepare for his party tonight.'

'Oh, okay,' Finn nods a little confused.

'Have Rachel not told you?' Kurt queers surprised, while putting out beautiful porcelain on the table.

Finn blinks confound. _No, she hasn't, have she?_ If she has, he really can't remember.

Kurt nods slowly upon seeing his step-brother's confounded expression. 'I guess she forgot then.' The taller boy mumbles something incoherent and then he nods slowly.

Carole smiles and puts down an empty tea pot on the table. 'Would you like to help us, sweetie?'

The quarterback turns to face his mother, smiles sheepishly and tells her that he has homework to do. _What a liar you are, Finn Hudson!_ He mentally kicks himself, for allowing himself to lie to his own mother. 'Maybe later,' he adds, to make his excuse not sound too made-up.

'Okay, honey. Just ask if you need help with anything. I'll be down here with Kurt,' Carole answers sweetly.

Kurt rolls his eyes, knowing that everything that just popped out of Finn's mouth was a lie. Finn shrugs as he sees Kurt's reaction.

The tall brunette heads back up the stairs and grabs his jacket and his car keys. _I don't want to hang around when those two turn our house into a freaking spa . . . _He puts his shoes on and ties them sloppily. Then he heads out through the front door.

'Hey, Finn!' exclaims Burt as Finn almost runs him over outside of the front door. 'Where are you heading, kid?' Kurt's father has just gotten home from his auto repair shop, Hummel Tires and Lube.

Finn shrugs, 'Don't know . . . Puck's or Sam's maybe.'

Burt nods. 'Drive safe,' he says before patting the tall lanky boy on the shoulder.

'I will,' Finn assures him and walks over to the car. 'I'll be back for dinner.'

'You better be, it's Friday night dinner, tonight.'

Finn chuckles, 'I know.' Then he gets into the driver seat.

The drive to Noah Puckerman's house doesn't take long. About fifteen minutes after Finn got in the car at his driveway he is getting out of it in front of Puck's place. The house is not special in any way, not huge and super expensive as Quinn's nor cheap and worn as Sam's, just one in a line of about fifty or so looking exactly the same.

Finn strolls up to the front door and rings the doorbell. At this time a day he doesn't really expects anyone to answer it; Puck's mother is probably working and his siblings are either still in school or out on the streets, making life horrible for some poor soul somewhere. And Puck himself . . . well, he's either out making life miserable for some nerd by throwing him into a dumpster or by bombing his house with rotten eggs and toilet paper, or he is glued in front of his Xbox plying FIFA. Either way he's not answering the door.

Finn pushes the tiny button two times, and then he waits . . . and waits . . . and waits. He pushes it one more time. Still no one is coming to open it up.

He tries the handle and finds that the door is unlocked. Pressing down the brass handle and pulling the door open he wishes that Puck's the one that's home and not his mother or anyone of his siblings. It would feel pretty weird having to explain to them what he's doing in their house uninvited. Though Finn has known Puck for what seems like an eternity now—a little over three years—he has never really spoken to anyone in the guy's family. He has said 'Hello' to his mother a couple of times when he has run into her downtown, but he cannot remember ever really talking to her.

'Puck?' he calls out as he closes the door behind him. He can hear muffled sounds coming from the back of the house, but he cannot make out whether they belong to actual people, a TV or, a radio. 'Hey, dude, are you home?' he tries again and starts to walk towards Puck's room.

The sounds grow louder with every step Finn takes towards the mohawked boy's room. _He better not be having sex right now_, Finn wishes as he slowly pushes the door to Puck's room open. The last thing he wants to do right now is to catch his buddy in _the act_.

'What the hell!' Puck exclaims as Finn appears in the doorway. 'Don't you _ever knock_?' He pulls a pillow over his midsection.

'Uh . . . I . . . uh . . . I'm sorry, dude,' Finn stutters and blushes a bit. Then he recovers and starts to smirk.

'What?' Puck growls.

'Who plays Xbox _Italian style_ by the way?' Finn asks and walks into the room. By the way he pronounces _Italian style_ he could just as well have said _nude_.

'Yeah, well, me, obviously!' the shorter boy says and points towards a pair of boxers that are hanging on a chair. Finn reluctantly picks them up and tosses them over to Puck. 'Thanks dude. But next time, _knock_!' Puck says as he puts the gray boxers on.

Finn chuckles. 'Yeah, no problem. I don't want to walk in on you like this again.'

Puckerman rolls his hazel eyes and drops back down onto the couch. 'Wanna play?'

'Sure.'

Puck hands Finn a wireless controller, as the latter takes a seat in the worn couch. 'Which teams?'

'You choose.'

Puck glances at Finn and smirks. 'Oh, how gentlemanly of you,' he teases and chooses his team. 'You ready to get your sorry ass kicked?'

'In your dreams, Puckerman!' Finn says and shifts his body into a more comfortable playing-position.

'Ha! We'll see . . . we'll see 'bout that, Finessa!'

Six and a half game later Puck yawns drops the controller to the floor. 'I'm bored,' he says. 'You're playing like a seven year old girl.' He stretches his legs out and puts his hands behind his head.

'I definitely do not!' Finn protests with a pout.

'You totally do. I've played Sam's little sister and she's better than you. And how old is she? Like five?' Puck points out. 'You suck!'

Finn snorts and puts the controller away as well. 'You cheated.'

'I did not,' Puck says and smacks Finn in the back of the head before he stands up. 'You want a bear?'

'Yeah, sure,' Finn says and leans back. _You totally cheated_.

A few minutes later Puck returns with two cold beers. He hands one to Finn and the other one he pops open for himself. 'Enjoy,' he says and raises it to the air before taking his first sip. Finn does the same. Puck sits down on the couch again. 'So . . . do you think it's for real?' he starts, a finger tracing the edge of the top of his can.

'What?' Finn asks confused.

'The Sam/Mercedes thing, do you really think it'll work?'

Finn shrugs. 'I honestly didn't know about it until now.'

Puck glances at the taller boy, an eyebrow arced, as if he is deciding whether the super tall quarterback really is from another planet or if he just time traveled here from the Stone Age. 'Do you really buy that he's over Quinn? I mean, you saw him last year . . .'

Finn gazes down onto the floor. Feelings of guilt welling over him, like drenching waves. _You know damn well how much Sam cared about Quinn. He loved her . . . and you stole her from him . . . just to dump her a few weeks later, heart-broken. You're an idiot Finn! _'I don't know . . . but she treated him kind of bad . . .'

Puck sighs and downs the last of his beer. 'I kind of get the feeling that she's not entirely over him . . .' He glances out the window, remembering how he had seen the blonde girl react when Mercedes slid her hand into Sam's in Glee Club last Monday.

Finn follows his gaze. 'She still matters to you, doesn't she?' It has started raining, but the raindrops soon turn into sleet that melts the second it makes contact with the window pane. Puck doesn't answer, but he doesn't need to. Finn just nods.

'Yeah, well, she's had a pretty tough time in high school . . . maybe she's just looking for something, or someone, to hold on to,' Finn shrugs. _Perhaps "pretty tough" aren't the right words._

'Yeah, maybe . . .' Puck says and tosses his beer can into the trash. 'He shoots, he scores,' he calls out, but there is no real excitement in his voice.

* * *

Author's note

So this is the fifth chapter! It is a little shorter than the previous chapters, but it's because I have decided to break the Friday down into either two or three parts (normally one chapter equals one day). So this chapter is part one. And in case you had forgotten about Kurt's little party on Friday night (which was mentioned in the first chapter), you got a little reminder in this chapter. The party will be featured in the next part. ;)

Samevans17: I totally agree with you – no dream about Sam could be a nightmare (except if something bad happened to him). But in Quinn's case it's more about the memories and feelings that the dream brings back; he was so adorable towards her and she just kept pushing him away. It made her remember how bad she treated him.

Lappers86: When watching Duets I kind of got the feeling that they were hinting towards a Puckerbrevans triangle, maybe even Puck would confront Sam when he got out of Juve. None of that happened though, which I think is sad. It would have fitted perfectly into the story.

Thank you for reading! I hope you liked this chapter! And don't forget to review! ;)


	6. Involuntary Party Crasher

Not Making the Same Mistake Again

Summary: Less than four months remain of the school year, for some students it's the last four months at William McKinley High. Therefore it's natural for the kids to want to make the best of the remaining time. However, a lot of things can go wrong in sixteen weeks . . .

Rated Teen for language primarily. There may be some spoilers for the two first seasons of the show as well as the third up until somewhere short after the episode _Hold on to Sixteen_.

I hope you will enjoy reading this multi-character fanfiction as much as I have enjoyed writing it!

I apologize in advance for any incorrect grammar or typo that may occur.

Reviews are very welcome.

Disclaimer: I do_not_ own _Glee_ nor do I own any of its characters. The same goes for anything involving the music mentioned.

End of author's note. Now on to the story!

* * *

_Chapter 6 – Involuntary Party Crasher_

[FRIDAY – part II]

The digital clock on her iPhone says 7.56 P.M. as she steps out of her car outside of the Hudson-Hummel house. There has been quite some time since she last visited this place. Thinking about it she realizes that she hasn't been there since Finn and her stopped dating – for the second time.

As she walks up to the front door she silently prays that Finn's mother won't be home. Quinn knows that Ms. Hudson-Hummel isn't very fond of her since she lured her son into believing that he was the father of her child without even having had sex with her. But honestly who could blame Ms. Hudson-Hummel? If Quinn would have been in her place she would probably have felt the same way . . .

She shrugs the uncomfortable feeling off of her shoulders and knocks on the hard wood. After a short moment she sees someone approaching the door. Finn. _Yay . . . or not._

'Hey,' he says awkwardly as he pulls the heavy wooden door open.

'Hey,' she responds in a flat tone.

There is a short moment of silence.

'Oh . . . come in!' he finally manages and moves aside, allowing her entrance into his home. 'Kurt's downsta—'

'Oh my gosh, Quinn! You came!' the two hear Kurt hollers from just behind Finn. He rushes pass Finn and grabs Quinn by her hand, leading her into the hall and closing the door behind her with his other hand. 'You look amazing, honey!' he exclaims as he sees her clothing.

It hadn't been that very cold outside when she had left her house thirty minutes earlier, so she had chosen to put on a vanilla colored dress that ended just above her knees, black high heeled boots and a black trench coat that ended about seven inches above the edge of dress.

'The other girls are already downstairs,' Kurt continues in his singsong voice. 'Finn, her coat.' The shorter boy motions for the taller to take her trench coat and put it on the coat rack. Finn rolls his eyes, but does as his step-brother says. He helps his former girlfriend get the coat off and then he hangs it on the coat rack just inside the front door.

'So he's got you on cloakroom service?' Quinn queers with a smirk on her lips. There is something about Kurt's hold on his step-brother that Quinn just finds so adorable.

'Apparently,' Finn mutters and fakes an offended glance in Kurt's direction, which causes Quinn to snicker.

'Quinn, sweetie, come on,' Kurt motions for the blonde girl to follow him to the staircase.

Downstairs Kurt has worked very hard with creating the perfect environment for a perfect girls' night. And God has he succeeded. At one corner of the room he has placed a Chinese tea table and spread out maroon and green pillows on the floor around it. He has lit several red and vanilla colored scented candles and put out small tea cups and saucers on the table.

Judging by the smell he is serving them chamomile tea, and chocolate and mint biscuits, he has also made a chocolate fondue. On a beautiful blue glass plate on the table lays a mountain of blood red, fresh strawberries and in a glass bowl on another table he has poured some pink-yellowish lemonade.

There are already quite a few ladies present in the room; Brittany, Tina and Rachel.

Quinn follows the gracious Kurt down the stairs and sits down by the tea table along with the others. 'Nice to see you here, Quinn,' Rachel says cheerfully, trying her best to make friends with Quinn again.

'I say the same about you,' Quinn smiles back at the short brunette.

'So . . . now we are only missing one,' Kurt points out as he sits down by the table as well. He folds his legs gracefully under his body.

'Who are we missing?' Brittany asks while picking up a strawberry.

Kurt smiles and answers, 'Mercedes.'

_Oh, yeah, great . . ._ Quinn lowers her gaze to her hands resting on her lap. Mercedes and she used to be good friends, close friends, but during the summer they drifted apart. Mostly because, Quinn thought, Mercedes had begun secretly dating Sam behind her back. Okay, okay, Sam and she had already broken up . . . or Sam had already broken up with her, but wasn't it _a_ _little_ _too soon_ for her friend to go charm her boyfriend—no, ex-boyfriend—like that? Not that it bothered Quinn . . . anymore. Right? Mercedes and Sam could date if they wanted to – that didn't bother her at all. Or maybe it did, a little, but just _a little_. You're supposed to care about your ex, right? So it's nothing wrong with that. But still Mercedes and she had drifted apart, and more so as time passed by. To be honest Quinn hasn't talked to Mercedes since before winter break, and that was quite a while ago now.

She hears someone snap their fingers in front of her face. 'Hey, Quinn! Are you there?'

The blonde shrugs the dullness off and smiles when she finds Tina waving a hand in front of her face. 'Yeah, yeah . . . I was just thinking.'

'We could tell,' Tina chuckles and hands Quinn a glass of the pink-yellowish drink.

'What is it?' she asks and sniffs the liquid. Since having gotten wasted on wine coolers with Puck almost two years ago and ended up sleeping with him she has gotten very suspicious of being handed drinks. Especially those she suspects might contain alcohol.

'Cool it off, Q,' Brittany says. 'There's no one here who can get you pregnant since Finn's upstairs.' Rachel, Quinn and Kurt shoot the tall blonde warning looks but she doesn't seem to notice them. She just smiles and takes a mouth full of the cold drink.

'It's okay, Quinn,' Kurt says supportively and pats the bond girl's lap. 'It's a low alcohol content punch. You won't get drunk as long as you don't end up drinking half the bowl.'

Quinn lets her lips form a small smile.

'Besides,' Kurt ads, 'if you happened to get drunk, you know you're safe with me.' He snickers, remembering the pretty blonde both of the fact that they are close friends and that he is gay – in case she had forgotten, which he doubts.

Her smile widens. 'I love you, Kurt Hummel,' she whispers.

'Shh, my dear,' he hushes her. 'The others might get ideas,' he jokes. Quinn rolls her eyes. As if anyone would every doubt the fact that Kurt is gay. He hasn't made much of a secret about his love for Blaine.

'So, Quinn,' Rachel says after a moment, 'what do you think about our new English teacher?' She takes a bite at her biscuit.

'Uh . . . he's great I guess. A bit more mentally stabile than the previous one, which is good,' she chuckles.

'And you think he's hot,' Brittany interjects.

'What?' Rachel asks and glares at Quinn from across the table.

_Here we go . . . In two days the rest of the school will know that I said that Mr. Eaton was cute. Great._ 'Well, he's kind of cute since he's not as old as the others,' Quinn tries to save the situation.

'He's not that much younger than Mr. Schue,' Tina points out, which doesn't help Quinn's situation at all. _Thank you very much, Tina . . ._

'Yeah, but . . . Schue's . . . Schue . . .'

'So?' Rachel asks.

'By the way who are you to judge, huh? If I'm not wrong you had the hugest crush on Mr. Schue.' Quinn points out, feeling the slightest of joy for finding something to retaliate with.

Rachel exclaims, 'That's not fair!' and starts to stand up when Kurt grabs her by the hand and pulls her down again.

'Ladies, ladies,' he says. 'Calm down.' He takes a second to look everybody around the table in their eyes before he continues. 'Mr. Eaton and Mr. Schue are both two very attractive men and there is nothing wrong with noticing their . . . strengths.' He takes a sip of his tea. 'Me, on the other hand, prefers a more sensitive and less lumbermanly man.'

'Like?' Tina queers, obviously interested in finding out more.

'What makes you think that I would share those deep secrets of mine,' the slender boy teases and smiles deviously.

'Oh, come on, Kurt!' Brittany and Tina both plead, but the boy just shakes his head slowly.

'I'm sorry, ladies, but some secrets must stay secret,' he chuckles.

'Kurt!' they hear Finn holler from upstairs about ten minutes later. Kurt excuses himself and dances up the stairs with a promise that he will be back in a few seconds.

A short moment later he reappears on the landing of the staircase with Mercedes at his side. The dark haired diva looks as stylish and beautiful as always as she slowly walks down the stairs arm in arm with Kurt.

'This way, darling,' Kurt says and leads the African American girl to the table were the others are seated. 'There is tea and strawberries, and chocolate fondue to savor.' The slender boy shows her an empty pillow and she sits down. 'I've made it myself, the fondue that is,' Kurt says proudly, 'the biscuits too.'

'The biscuits, they are really good, Kurt,' Tina says popping another into her mouth.

'Thank you!' Kurt says, flashing the widest of toothy smiles.

'So where were we?' Rachel queers and takes a sip of her tea.

'Kurt's lumberjack crush,' Brittany says in her usual bubbly voice.

Mercedes almost chokes on a strawberry. 'Wait, _what_? the diva exclaims shifting her eyes from Brittany to Kurt and back to Brittany. The other girls laugh and Tina almost tips over on her back with laughter.

'No, no, no. We are not going there again,' Kurt tries.

'Oh yes, _we_ are!' Mercedes says. 'We've heard A, now you've_ gotta_ give us B, honey.'

Kurt sighs loudly and rolls his eyes dramatically, but eventually he begins to talk, 'Before you arrived, Mercedes, we discussed hot teachers and I told the girls that in a man I prefer tenderness rather than lumberjack roughness even though it's said to mean great sex.'

'You never said anything about the sex,' Tina points out. Kurt makes another roll of his eyes and smiles.

'Oh! I've got a great idea—while we're on the subject of personal details—let's play truth or dare!' Rachel exclaims and excitedly lets her eyes sweep over the others around the table. 'It was so long ago we last did that, guys!'

Brittany excitedly claps her hands. 'Yay, awesome idea, Rach!'

'I've got nothing to hide,' Tina says and shrugs.

'Mercedes, Kurt, Quinn?' Rachel asks.

'Count me in, baby,' Mercedes says and turns her gaze to Kurt that is sitting next to her.

'Bring it on!'

Rachel turns to the only one that hasn't answered yet. 'Quinn?'

Quinn contemplates what consequences the silly game can bring, but eventually decides against her gut feeling and common sense. 'Okay, I'm in.'

'Awesome!' Brittany sings.

'Have you got a bottle or something similar, Kurt?' Rachel queers as she is scanning the room for something they can use to spin on the table.

'Give me a moment,' the pretty boy says and gets up and walks over to a drawer just beneath the stairs. He pokes around in the drawer for a few seconds before he finds what he is looking for. 'Will this be good enough?' he smiles and holds up an empty bottle of AVEDA hairspray.

'That will be perfect, Kurt,' Rachel laughs.

The boy walks back to the table and puts the bottle in the middle. 'Who wants to go first?' he asks.

'Me, me, me!' Brittany cheers.

'Wait, before we start, I've got an idea,' Tina says with a sneaky smile on her lips.

'Okay . . . do we dare to ask what it is?' Kurt asks modest, knowing that the Asian girl has a pretty wild fantasy. Emphasis on _wild_.

'I say we skip the dare—'

'What?' Brittany, Rachel and Mercedes calls in unison.

'That would be like taking away the whole point of the game . . .' Kurt points out.

'Will you guys let me finish?' Tina asks smiling. The others grow quiet. 'Thank you. Now, I say we skip the dare and if you don't want to say the truth you'll have to take a glass of punch.'

Rachel glances uncertainly at Kurt. 'You said it wasn't that strong, right?'

'Yes, that's what Blaine said, when we mixed it this afternoon.'

'So . . . what do you say?' Tina queers.

'I'm still in,' Rachel says, though a little hesitant.

Brittany, 'Me too.'

'Yeah,' Mercedes says.

'Let's do this!' Kurt exclaims and giggles.

Tina gets up and brings the bowl of punch closer to the table.

Upon seeing Quinn sit, silently watching her hands resting in her lap, Rachel leans closer to the blonde girl. 'Quinn, are you okay?' Two years ago neither of the two girls could see this happened: the two of them attending a small private get-together like this. Let alone sit next to each other and talk – not scream nor shoot nasty remarks at each other.

The former Cheerios captain is startled by the sound of the short diva's voice in her ear. 'Ye-yeah,' she stutters and musters a small smile.

'It's like no alcohol in it so you don't have to worry,' Rachel tries to cheer her up.

_And what's that supposed to mean?_ Quinn thinks, but decides to not say anything. Rachel has actually been kind of nice to her the whole evening; well, except from that teacher-crush conversation half an hour ago. Actually, Rachel has been pretty nice to Quinn ever since Finn dumped the her at Sue's sister's funeral.

'You ready?' Tina asks and everybody around the table nods. 'Give the bottle a spin, Brittany.'

The tall blonde sets the bottle in motion and excitedly waits for it to stop. Five spins. Six. Seven. It is starting to slow down. Ten. Eleven. It's almost not spinning any longer. Twelve. Who will it be? Kurt? No. Brittany? No, it can't be her. Tina? No. It's stopping, almost, at least. Mercedes . . . no, not quite. Rachel? Yes. Rachel it is!

'Oh, no!' the dark haired girl cries while snickering.

'Oh, yes!' Mercedes shoots in. 'Truth or drink?'

'Truth.'

'You ready?' Brittany asks.

Rachel sighs. 'Shoot.'

'What?' Brittany asks confused.

'Just ask,' Tina sighs.

'Oh . . . okay, let's see . . . how's Finn like to kiss?'

'Oh, that was easy – like totally amazing. Like, like warm and cold and it's like fireworks and, yeah, good.'

'Okay, your turn, Rach,' Tina says, pushing the bottle towards the short brunette. She spins it and watches as it comes to a stop pointing straight at the only boy in the room.

'Truth or dare,' Rachel queers whilst smiling deviously.

'Truth,' Kurt laughs.

'Okay,' Rachel clears her throat. 'When did you find out, you know . . . that you're gay?'

The question causes Kurt to burst into a heartedly laughter. 'You go deep, Rachel,' he says smiling. 'Uh . . . honestly though, I think that I have always known, you know.' The pretty boy is still smiling.

'So you—' Tina starts to form a sentence but is interjected by Kurt.

'That would make _two _questions,' he giggles and holds up two fingers. 'You have to wait for your turn.' He picks up the bottle and sets it in motion. It stops on Tina.

'Drink,' the Asian girl says and fills a cup with punch and downs it. The others break out into laughter at the girl's response to having Kurt ask her a question.

Tina spins the bottle and it comes to a rest, pointing straight at Quinn.

'So, Quinn, truth or drink?' Tina asks with her sneakiest smile.

'Drink, the blonde answers and reaches her hand towards the punch bowl and grabs the ladle.

'I didn't know you we're all such a bunch of alcoholics,' Kurt giggles, receiving a nudge in the side form Quinn for his accusation. And like this the game goes on and about, and hour later the punch bowl is close to empty.

'Your turn to spin the bottle Britt,' Tina tells the tall blonde and hiccups.

'Quinnie!' Brittany exclaims as the bottle stops, pointing at the shorter blonde. 'Truth or dare?'

'Drink,' Kurt corrects Brittany.

Quinn considers the question for a moment; she has gone with drink every single time the bottle has stopped, pointing in her direction this evening. 'Okay . . . truth,' she says slowly.

'Good, Quinn! We don't want you spending tomorrow with a hangover,' Rachel comments and at that Quinn rolls her eyes. _I'm not drunk,_ she thinks. _Or, am I?_

Brittany asks, 'You ready, Quinn?'

The shorter blonde nods and then hiccups. _I'm _so_ drunk._

'Okay, Q . . . how was Sam in bed?' Brittany starts to giggle hysterically; apparently the punch had gotten to her too.

_I though Kurt said it wasn't strong stuff. . ._ Quinn catches herself thinking. Then she realizes that her friend has asked her a question. 'Wh-what did you just say?'

'How was _Sam_ _in bed_?' Brittany repeats her question with glittering eyes. Obviously Sam Evans was one of few boys at school that Brittany had not yet slept with.

The silence that filled the room after Brittany asked the question the second time was oppressive. Everyone—that would make it Tina, Rachel and Kurt—intently shifted their gaze from Brittany, to Quinn, back to Brittany again and over to Mercedes and then back to Quinn again. None of them could believe what they just heard. Had Brittany actually asked Quinn if Sam was good in bed right in front of Mercedes? Oh. My. God!

Mercedes had thought she had heard wrong when Brittany had asked Quinn her question, but as the tall—not too clever—blonde had repeated the question Mercedes had found out that there was nothing wrong with her ears. She had heard exactly what the blonde had asked. Now she is staring straight at Quinn, without not really looking at the pretty blonde. _Why would I care really, Sam and I aren't dating anymore . . . I ended it with him. Kind of. And I'm with Shane now . . . Talking about Sam like this shouldn't bother me. It was just a summer fling . . ._

Quinn swallows hard. Just about now she hates the tall blonde girl sitting opposite her. _Why did I have to agree to truth now? _she scolds herself.

'Q?' Brittany queers while the others hold their breaths.

'That's none of your business,' she hisses. _Oh great! Now it sounds like you're_ _being territorial about him . . ._ _ Good job Quinn Fabray! Very good job!_

'That's not an answer,' Brittany pushes, not noticing the rising tension in the room.

'Britt—' Kurt begins but is interjected.

'Okay, I don't know! _I didn't sleep with him!_ Satisfied?' Quinn spits.

'Calm down, Q,' Brittany says, rising her hands in defense.

'She's right, Quinn,' Mercedes says and watches Quinn boil. _That girl can't drink,_ she notes. _An epitome of a hysteric drunk._

'Shut up!' Quinn says and stands up. She wobbles slightly from the spinning in her head caused by the sudden movement and perhaps a few glasses of punch too much. Grabbing her purse she leaves the table and runs up the stairs, leaving the others gazing after her in confusion and shock.

Kurt gets up from his seat and runs after her, but by the time he reaches the front door she has already left and is walking up the street. He grabs his coat and starts to put on his boots when Rachel comes up behind him and puts a hand on his shoulder. 'Don't, Kurt,' she says. 'I think she wants some time alone.'

The boy turns around and watches Rachel. There is sadness in his glasz colored eyes. It wasn't like _this_ he had pictured his gathering to turn out.

'She will be okay,' she offers and takes his hand, leading him down the stairs, down to the other girls.

* * *

He turns left and eases north on the road—Whitman Avenue that is—towards his home. It's getting really late and he knows how little his mother likes it when he is out driving this late at night. She should only know what he used to do while they lived in Kentucky, while his father and she was sound asleep in their bed . . . He thinks about the numerous times he had gotten up shortly after his parents had fallen asleep. How he had sneaked out and taken the family truck—he had been forced to sell his own car to help his parents get enough money for the rent to the motel room they temporary lived in—and driven into town. There he had spent the nights taking his clothes off for money.

He had pushed himself to endure hours after hours of dancing, while middle aged house wives caressed him, pinched him, touched his junk, slapped his behind and called him names. The name-calling and the yelling was probably the worst part, he notes. Somehow it affected him a lot more than the actual physical contact with the women. He just couldn't get used to the women calling him "baby", "sugar", and "honey" and so on. The screaming was even worse. Having those women call for him to dance for them, to satisfy them, totally creeped him out. Most of the women were at the same age as his mother, some of them even older, and just the thought that those women were someone's mother—a _someone_ like him; a seventeen year old kid—freaked him out. There was nothing sexy about stripping, at least not at the bar he was working, the uncomfortable extra job had quickly turned into a habit to get extra cash—a well-paid one—but that was all it was; another job.

Thinking about it, he is glad that his mother doesn't know about that whole stripper thing, and he is very happy that his father doesn't know either. None of them would have taken easy on it upon finding out, he knows. They are very protective about their children, Mr. and Mrs. Evans.

He rolls forward on the street in a rather slow pace, since the road is covered with black ice, that's when he sees a lone person walking along the roadside in the same direction as he is heading. As he grows closer he sees that the person is a blonde woman clad in only a dress and a knee long coat. There is something familiar about the gait of the girl though.

He drives closer.

_Is that Quinn?_ He squints to get a better look at the blonde girl. _No it can't be . . . what is she doing here, walking alone in this cold in the middle of the night?_

As he is almost alongside the girl, he is one hundred percent sure that it is Quinn. He slows down so that the car is rolling beside her at the same speed as she is walking and then he rolls down the passenger side window. He can see her eyes dart to the side as she notices the car, but instead of looking inside she turns her gaze to the ground and keeps walking.

'Quinn?' he queers.

The unexpected sound of _his_ voice causes her to startle a little. She had thought it was just another one of those jocks slowing down to offer her a ride and maybe a little _something_ more.

'What are you doing?' he asks whilst observing her carefully. She throws a quick glance at him, but doesn't reply. 'Quinn, you're gonna freeze to death walking dressed like that in this cold,' he points out, motioning towards her clothes. He knows he is exaggeration a bit when he says that she is going to freeze to death, but he has a point. 'Come on, get in the car . . . I'll drive you home,' he says and slowly pulls the car to a stop.

At first she simply ignores him and keeps on walking, she doesn't feel like spending twenty minutes of uncomfortable silence in a car with _him_ where she has nowhere to flee, but after walking a couple of feet further, feeling the cold wind blow right through her clothes and embrace her bones, she makes up her mind. She turns around and walks the few feet back to his car.

When he sees her turning back and starting to walk towards the car he bends over and pushes the passenger door open for her. Watching her climb into the car he notices that her cheeks are wet, though he cannot determine if they're wet from snow that has melted on her warm skin or if it is smeared out tears. Or maybe a mixture of both.

'You okay?' he asks as she closes the door and fastens her seat belt with a quiet_ click_. He can hear her sigh quietly as she unplugs the earphone from her right ear. She had already taken out the other one. She puts her iPhone in her lap.

'Mm . . . yeah,' she mumbles quietly and leans back into the seat.

He throws a quick glance her way before he slowly releases the clutch as he puts his other foot on the accelerator. The car starts to move and after a few second he puts in another gear.

She is kneading the hem of her dress in her hands but every once in a while she brings her hands up to her mouth to blow warm air on them.

'Try sitting on 'em,' Sam suggests as he reaches forward and turns the heat up a few notches. She takes his advice and puts her hands under her thighs.

'So can I ask what the heck you were doing out in this cold, dressed like that?' he focus his eyes on the road ahead of him. It is extremely slippery and every now and then the car slides sideways on the black ice.

'I was heading home from Kurt's,' she explains and Sam realizes that that is probably the first full sentence she has said to him since before Christmas.

'At _this _time?' he queers surprised and throws and eye on his watch, knowing how much Judy Fabray disapproves of her daughter being out at this hour. Back when they dated, Mrs. Fabray always made him promise to make sure she got home safe and sound before 11 P.M. and now the hour hand is getting closer to twelve than eleven.

'Yeah . . . he, uh, he had a party—girls' night he called it—and it got pretty late.'

_Man you're stupid!_ Sam tells himself. _You should have figured that out already, since Mercedes has already told you twice about going to that girl-plus Kurt-get-together._

'Oh, okay,' he mumbles and makes a turn to the right. 'But what's happened to your car?'

She glances at him with her eyebrows knitted together in a confound expression. 'What do you mean? My car's not broken.'

He turns his head to the side and meets her eyes for a split second before turning his own back to the street, to avoid sliding off the road. 'You always drive,' he points out and changes the gear.

'Oh . . .' She is quiet for a moment and her silence causes him to once again turn his gaze to her.

'You okay?' he asks for the second time this night. There is a slight hint of concern in his deep voice. 'Quinn?'

Hearing him say her name brings her back to the present and she offers him a fake smile in a cheap attempt at throwing him off the track that he has dug up.

He doesn't swallow the bait though and instead asks her, 'What happened?'

'Nothing,' she responds in a flat tone.

He sighs loudly. 'I'm not blind Q, I can see that something's wrong.'

_He actually said Q! He hasn't done that since . . . since before he performed Baby to me in Glee Club._ 'That's not your business,' she points out quietly.

'Well since you're sitting in _my_ car I think it is,' he says, emphasizing the fact that he can drop her off _anytime_ he wants and _anywhere_ he wants.

She sighs loudly, realizing that she is trapped. 'I had a little too much punch to drink at Kurt's,' she shrugs. 'So I left the car in his driveway.'

'So you decided to walk home, on your own?' He arcs an eyebrow in disbelief. The Quinn he used to know would never have done such a thing.

'Yes.'

'You couldn't have caught a ride home with any of the other girls?'

_If you only knew . . ._ 'No.'

'Why?' he asks quickly?

_What is this; a cross-examination?_ 'I left early.'

'Something happen?' he queers suspiciously as he pulls up on the street were Quinn lives. He knows her alright.

She casts a quick glance at him. _Has Mercedes texted him_? 'No. Why do you ask?'

He pulls to a stop on the road outside of her house and turns to face her. 'I ask because when you stepped into the car, Quinn, your cheeks were all wet and you didn't say anything at all for like several minutes,' he tells her, never once letting his eyes off of her face.

He can see a flood of emotion pass her eyes as he tells her what he saw when she got into his old beat-up truck about twenty minutes ago. He cannot tell though if it was a hint of sadness, fear or anger he just saw sweeping over her neat features. Nevertheless it right about breaks his heart.

She shakes her head slowly and he can see moist in her eyes. 'It's not your job to care, Sam,' she starts to say as she unbuckles her seat belt with fumbling hands.

'What?' he queers confused and watches as she turns, out of discomfort of the situation, in her seat.

'I'm not your girlfriend anymore . . . so you don't have to pretend to care,' she mumbles and reaches for the door handle.

_Girlfriend? What does that have to do with this?_ 'Quinn,' he pleads and reaches out to grab her free hand.

At the feeling of his hand on hers she jerks in the seat pulling her hand to her. 'Don't touch me!' she hisses. 'Don't tou—'

'Quinnie.'

'No. No, you listen to me . . . none of this is your darn business! None!' She flings the door open and practically stumbles out of the car, accidently dropping her iPhone in the space between the seat and the wall in the process.

'Quinn!' he calls out for her, but she slams the door shut, cutting her name off mid-through. She turns on her heals and scuttle up the walk to the house where she jerk the door open and bursts inside, slamming the door shut with a bang behind her.

Sam sighs loudly as he thumps his head against the steering wheel. _I'm such a moron! Fuck!_ He lets out another loud sigh and leans back into the seat. _Good going there, man, really smooth . ._ . He turns the key in the ignition bringing the car back to life and then he pulls off into the night.

* * *

Author's note

In the previous chapter's author's note I wrote that the Friday would be divided into either two or three parts – it turned out to be two parts. So chapter five is part one, and chapter six is part two.

In this chapter Kurt throws a mini-party, which he's been talking about since the first chapter. It takes an unexpected turn during a game of Truth or Dare and doesn't end the way Kurt has planned. Quinn flees the party and ends up in Sam's old truck were he kind of confronts her.

Thanks for reading! I apologize for any typos or grammar mistakes. If you liked what you read, don't be shy – please review! :)


	7. A Picture Says More Than a Thousand Word

Not Making the Same Mistake Again

Summary: Less than four months remain of the school year, for some students it's the last four months at William McKinley High. Therefore it's natural for the kids to want to make the best of the remaining time. However, a lot of things can go wrong in sixteen weeks . . .

Rated Teen for language primarily. There may be some spoilers for the two first seasons of the show as well as the third up until somewhere short after the episode _Hold on to Sixteen_.

I hope you will enjoy reading this multi-character fanfiction as much as I have enjoyed writing it!

I apologize in advance for any incorrect grammar or typo that may occur.

Reviews are very welcome.

Disclaimer: I do_not_ own _Glee_ nor do I own any of its characters. The same goes for anything involving the music mentioned.

End of author's note. Now on to the story!

* * *

_Chapter 6 – A picture says more than a thousand words_

[SATURDAY]

It is Saturday morning and actually a little bit warmer outside than it was last night. But you still have to put a jacket on, since the winds that blow are still quite chilly. But at least the snow has melted away.

He puts on his dark grey converse and lazily ties the shoelaces, something that he remembers Mr. Schuester taught him. The All Stars are pretty cold to wear at this time a year but he really likes them, and someone once told him 'no pain, no gain' and he guess that they were right. Come to think of it Quinn was probably the one who told him that. Appearance was always important to her – it still is.

He pulls his WMHS varsity jacket off the coat rack and puts it on.

'Where are you going, honey?' his mother calls from the kitchen/living room/office whatever you call it. Their new house isn't big, but at least he and doesn't have to share a bedroom with his siblings and his parents anymore.

'Cleaning the car. Dad asked me,' he calls back. 'Inside only,' he ads as he sees his mother pop her head out in the hallway, about to tell him that he cannot clean the car when it's below freezing point outside. 'I'm not stupid, mom.'

'I know you're not, Sammy,' she says lovingly. 'It's just that sometimes—'

He sighs. 'Yeah, yeah . . . I know. Sometimes I don't really think before I act, I know.'

His mother smiles. 'I love you, sweetie.' Then she turns around and heads back to the sink and the awaiting mess of dirty plates, forks and knives.

'I love you too,' he says quietly as he reaches for the door handle and pushes the front door open.

The red truck is parked on the driveway and Sam notices that it should need an exterior wash as well, but as his mother so kindly pointed out to him it is below freezing point and he doesn't want the car to freeze up just because he was foolish enough to clean it in this cold. So instead he brings out a vacuum cleaner and a couple of polishing cloths. He starts by vacuuming the floor of the vehicle only to realize how much dirt has hidden under the rubber mats. He bends over and vacuums between the seats, it's quite cumbersome but at least the car gets cleaner. Then he moves to the small space between the driver's seat and the door. He ends up finding four dimes and a penny and a couple of gum wraps. _Guilty,_ he admits and feeds the gum wraps to the vacuum cleaner. The four dimes and the penny he shoves in his pant pocket. Maybe he can use them to buy more gum sometime.

Then he moves to the other side of the car, reaching down to vacuum between the passenger seat and the door on that side. That is when he sees something white and plastic lying on the floor in the small space between the seat and the door. He reaches down and picks it up.

'An iPhone,' he mumbles confused, knowing that none in his family owns one. The white electronic device looks rather small in his hand. He turns it over to check if there's a name tag on it or something—as if anyone actually still print their name on all their belongings—and to his surprise he actually finds a tiny letter carved into the backside of the IPhone. In the top left corner there's a small, barely visible, _Q_ incurved.

Sam smiles despite himself. _She must have dropped it last night, _he notes_. It's so typical Quinn to tag it though,_ he thinks as he let his index finger run across the small letter.

'Sam,' the unexpected sound of his mother's voice causes him to startle and hit his head in the car headlining.

'What, mom?' he calls back, rubbing his throbbing head._ I'm so gonna get a bump from that. Thanks mom . . ._

'Can you drive Stace to Marie's later?'

'Yeah, I guess.'

Mary smiles at him. 'Thank you, honey.' She closes the door again.

_Okay . . . where was I? Oh, right . . . cleaning._ He picks up one of the polishing cloths and starts to wipe down the dashboard, while humming Bieber's _Baby_.

* * *

Usually she's up with the rooster. Having half of her daily chores done by the time her friends get out of bed. She has always been a morning person, has always loved the feeling of getting up when the day breaks, watching the first rays of sunlight reach over the hills, but every once in a while Rachel lets herself have a little sleep in. Her fathers say it's good for her since she's a teenager – and teenagers are supposed to sleep a lot. And this morning Rachel could do nothing but agree with them.

The alarm clock by her bed tells her that it's 10.24 A.M. when she reluctantly lets her eyes flutter open. She can't remember exactly at what time she got home last night, but she can tell that it wasn't at eleven which she had told her dads that she would be home.

_Hope they're not too upset,_ she wishes as she rolls over to her stomach and reaches to the night stand for her cell phone._ Fifteen texts and two missed calls_? _Oh my . . ._

Most of the texts and both the calls as it turns out belong to Finn. The continuous thread throughout the nine texts that her boyfriend has sent is in short "Hope you had a great time yesterday. Heard you left late. I want to see you today. Call me. I love you.'' in different constructions. There are also two texts from Kurt, asking her how she feels today; one text from Tina, who asks if she has spoken to Quinn yet; two from her dads, the first one telling her to take the pork tenderloin from the freezer and put it on the counter and the second remembering her about the pork tenderloin in the freezer, in case she has forgotten about it; and last but not least there's one text from Brittany containing a bunch of random letters and digits that doesn't say Rachel a squat._ Guess the girl accidentally unlocked her phone again and sat down on it. Wouldn't be the first time . . ._

As much as she would actually like to stay in bed today she knows that she has to get up. There are a lot of things she has to do today and from personal experience she knows that if she doesn't do them right away she'll just put them on hold until there's enough on her to do list to drown her. Therefore she reluctantly shoves the blanket a side and swings her feet over the edge of the bed. Immediately after heaving herself up into a sitting position, feet dangling off the edge of the bed, she comes to regret the decision she just made of getting out of bed. Her head throbs and the world spins slightly as her brain tries to adapt to the change in level.

_I am so not playing Truth or Drink with those guys again_, Rachel makes a mental note as her world slowly begins to turn stationary again.

Carefully she moves her weight to her feet and stands up. After noting that her body works properly despite her dull head she makes a move for the bathroom. She can't meet Finn later looking and smelling like this – if Finn still has time to see her that is.

Staring at the reflection in the mirror Rachel establishes that she doesn't look as bad as she thought – as bad as she _feels_. Actually she looks just like normal . . . well, with exception of the glossy eyes.

Anyways she takes that shower. It's a good thing to start your day with; it gives you an extra energy boost. But it also feels good.

After exiting the shower and drying her hair she sends a text to Finn asking if he is still interested in seeing her in the afternoon. His answer drops in almost at the same time as she sets down her phone. Obviously he's been keeping his iPhone close all day, waiting for a text or call from her.

**- Would love to! Working 'til 1 P.M though :/ Your place at two? :)Love you! /Finn**

She texts him back telling him that 2 P.M. will be perfect before she heads downstairs to make herself a nice brunch. _Two toasts with cheese, tomato and cucumber, an apple and a glass of tropical juice is probably the best thing, next to a shower, to start a morning with. Or in this case the forenoon. _The short brunette bites into one of the toast and hums a content 'Mm . . .'

Thinking about it Rachel notes that she pretty much loves her life right about now. She's doing well in school and Glee Club is great – she's getting a lot of solos, and Quinn and she have buried the hatched and are actually pretty good friends now, or at least they can sit down and talk like two civilized young women now. But even so the best thing is probably that Finn and she are back on, again, _finally_. And it's for real this time. She can feel it. No more cheating, no more back-stabbing, no more lies and no more heart-breaking. This time it's going to last forever.

Being awaken from her thoughts by the sudden ringing of the phone, Rachel almost chokes on her toast. She has to beat her chest multiple times to cough up the piece of bread before she can pick up the phone and hit the green button.

'Berry household,' she croaks.

'Rachel, is that you?' Kurt's soft voice says over the line. 'Are you feeling okay? You sound a bit—'

'I'm fine!' the brunette girl says and clears her throat. 'It's only that you almost had me choking on a piece of toast just now.'

'Oh . . . I'm so sorry, Rach!' The boy sounds genuinely sad.

Rachel chuckles softly. 'No, it's okay, Kurt. I do that all the time!' _Okay perhaps that wasn't true, but it happens . . . sometimes._

A short moment of silence passes.

'By the way, I had such a good time yesterday!' Rachel exclaims in a happy voice. 'It's been a really long time since I laughed that hard . . . and much.' She snickers.

Kurt joins her sniggering and then says, 'Well, thank you so much, Rachel, but I could not have done it without you girls.'

_Oh, Kurt, always the gentleman. _'You suck up!' she laughs, but then turns her tone serious, 'But I suppose you didn't just call to chat today, did you?'

The cheerfulness in Kurt's voice is completely lost when he opens his mouth to speak again. 'I wanted to ask you about what happened last night?'

'What do you mean?' Rachel can hear herself ask even though she has a pretty good idea what Kurt is referring to.

'Quinn,' he simply says.

Rachel drags a deep breath and then slowly blows the humid—now a bit damp—air out. What is she supposed to say? 'I think it is pretty clear,' she slowly says, though she doesn't know if it is the right thing to say, 'that she got a bit upset about when it came to Sam in that whole Truth or Drink thing.'

'Yes, I know that—after all I was there, Rach—but that was not what I was talking about. What I am asking you is _why_ she reacted the way she did?' his tone was dead serious, but there was this hint of concern there.

'I, I don't know . . . I suppose she is still mad with Sam for breaking up with her or something.' _Even though she got what she deserved after how she treated him last year. Cheating on him with Finn like that, just to get a better shot at the prom queen crown, though she would have had the best of chances of winning it with Sam._ 'And she had had quite a lot to drink, and you know what effect alcohol has on Quinn. She's the epitome of a hysteric drunk.'

Kurt cannot help but to let a short chuckle escape his soft lips. But he soon sobers. 'But still . . . the reaction wasn't very Quinn-like. Drunk or not.'

She knows that Kurt has a point. And unfortunately she doesn't have an answer to his question. 'I don't know, Kurt. What do you want me to say?' she says resignedly. 'It isn't like she tells me everything that is troubling her now, just because we don't want to kill each other all the time. We're friends but that doesn't automatically result in the two of us feeling like we can share everything with one another.'

Rachel can hear the boy at the other end sigh heavily. 'I know it doesn't Rachel, but I just thought that you girls might be more willing to open up to each other when it comes to boyfriend-issues and similar stuff than you are to, say, me, as a boy.'

'I suppose we do . . . But you know Quinn just as well as I do, and we both know that she has a tendency to keep her feelings hidden away from everyone else. She doesn't talk about them.'

Kurt sighs again. 'Yes, you are right.' Then there is a short sequence of silence before he continues. 'But I should probably get going. I have a date with Blaine later and I heard that you are meeting up with Finn, so I am not going to keep you distracted any longer. Take care, Rachel.'

'That sounds lovely, Kurt. Tell Blaine I said "hello". See you at Monday, if not sooner! Bye!'

* * *

Six minutes past two Finn's old blue beat up truck pulls up on the driveway out front of the Berry home. He is a few minutes late, he knows that, but he got kind of hold up at work. And it's not like he can just leave whenever he wants to – Burt needs him, because Kurt is not really the kind of guy who gets his hands greasy voluntarily, and Burt, well he's kind of busy nowadays.

He climbs out of the truck and slams the door shut. _Let the force still be with me, Grilled Cheesus_, he whispers and draws a deep breath as he begins to cross the well-kept lawn. He knows that it probably is ridiculous to still be praying for strength from an old sandwich with a burn mark the shape of Jesus, which was thrown in the trash a long time ago, but he needs to pray for strength from somewhere right? But maybe Grilled Cheezus isn't the best superiority to worship . . . it might after all be the reason why Sam ended up at the hospital with a dislocated shoulder.

His eyes are set on the robust front door. He knows that Rachel will let him know that he is late. She hates it when he is late. And Rachel, well Rachel isn't one you want to be around when she is angry. Often things get thrown around and plates get crashed and that is never funny. Especially not when the plates are thrown at _you_.

One last deep breath, then he rings the doorbell. Only a second or maybe two passes before he hears someone unlock the door and unhinge the latch. Finn fiddles with his hands and tries to focus on something other than the intense voice of Rachel Berry in his head that are screaming at him for being late and for occasionally throwing glances at Quinn or for being stupid or clumsy or whatever. Unconsciously he squeezes his eyes shut to block out the furious voice.

'Finn,' it says. 'Finn? Hello! _Finn!'_ It sounds so goddamn _real_! 'Finn, what are you doing? For goodness sake open your _damn_ eyes, Finn!' Afraid that the imaginary Rachel will start throwing expensive china at him if he doesn't obey he slowly pries his eyes open and finds himself standing face to face with the real deal.

'Holy shit!' he exclaims and takes a fast step back and ends up almost stumbling backwards off the step. In the last second he gets a hold of the railing and manages to stay up straight.

'Oh my God, Finn! What are you doing?' Rachel gasps as she reaches for Finn's arm as he fights to regain balance.

'Uh . . .' Finn hums, still confused of how he ended up clenching the railing like it is the last thing keeping him from falling down a bottomless shaft.

The petite brunette eyes him suspiciously for a moment before she decides to let it go. 'So how has your day been?' she asks as she reaches up and brushes some dust out of his hair.

'Uh . . .' _She isn't upset?_ He frowns. 'Well, good, I guess.'

Rachel squints at him. 'You guess?' she reaches for her red coat. 'Has something happened?' There is a worry in her voice and a pout on her lips that causes him to think that maybe she believes that he just received some really bad news that his uncle or grandmother or an old childhood friend or someone else tragically has passed away.

'No, nothing's happened,' he explains and lets her hook her arm with his. 'Well, there was this lady that came in just before my shift ended . . .'

'What about her?' Rachel asks with mild curiosity, the black bird that is picking on the neighbor's garden gnome seeming much more interesting.

'She insisted that there was something wrong with her car; and ancient Ford that belongs nowhere but in a museum or at the junkyard.' Finn chuckles to himself as he replays the scene in front of his eyes. It wasn't funny when he was in the middle of it, but now, looking back, it was pretty funny.

The brunette girl turns her attention from the lone bird and glances up at her ridiculously tall boyfriend, suddenly seeming a lot more interested in his story. 'What's so funny?'

He looks down at her and gives her a lopsided smile. 'You really wanna hear?' He almost sounds surprised.

She nods rapidly and pulls him closer by the arm. 'Tell me everything.'

Finn chuckles again, but this time it is not because he is finding something amusing but because he realizes that he has got pretty much everything he has ever dreamed of having right about now: he is captain of the football team, he has got the quarterback position, he is the co-captain of the Glee Club, he is the most popular guy at school and he has got the girl. She might not be _the girl, _the one that every other boy at school wants or the one that every other girl at school wants to be, but she is the only girl that _he_ wants. The one that is perfect for him.

'Are you going to tell me or will I have to milk my sources and find it out that way?' she asks while nudging him in the ribs.

'What sources?' he queers and blinks confound. There is no one at the garage that he can think of that Rachel would be able to put pressure on for information. Of course there is always Burt, but he is not one to chew the fat; plus he wasn't even there today.

'Just continue with your story already,' she smiles and leans her head against his shoulder as they pass by the intersection in which she always turns left when she heads for school.

Finn figures that the best thing to do is to follow Rachel's instructions and go on with the story—though it is not much of a story—before he gets even more confused.

He tells her that when he had about half an hour left of his shift an old lady came in with her old—or ancient as he had put it earlier—Ford to have it repaired. According to her there was something wrong with the mechanics that spray the washer fluid on the windshield. Almost one and a half hour after the lady had come in he could still not find anything wrong with her car. Had it not been for Blaine—who dropped by looking for Kurt—Finn tells Rachel, he would probably still be at the garage looking for an explanation for the malfunction.

'What did Blaine do?' Rachel asks curiously as they stroll down the trail to the park.

'He walked up to us and introduced himself to the old lady. Then he asked her if he could have a look at her glasses if she didn't mind.'

Rachel chuckled as she imagined the situation happening in front of her eyes.

'She gave them to him and he told her how much he admired them and then he whipped them off and handed them back to her before disappearing again.'

'Yes . . . and?'

'And . . . Well, then the lady said I was a very fine young man that had helped her fix her windshield and then she paid me and took off,' Finn finishes and shrugs.

The brunette girl giggles. 'Her glasses were greasy, that's why she though there was something wrong with the, uh, the . . . washer fluid thing. But really the stains were on her lenses.' She laughed heartedly now. 'Seems like you have had a pretty interesting day.'

'And exhausting!' he sighs and yawns. 'What about you? What have you done?' he queers and gives her a quick peck on the cheek.

'Not much,' she answers and gazes out on the late winter scenery. _It is beautiful_, she notes, _but I prefer it snow-capped_. It is halfway through February and the first signs of spring have already been starting to show here and there. The snow is gone since about . . . yesterday? Didn't it snow on Friday? Maybe she remembered wrong; after all, she was a bit wasted when she left Kurt's party.

'That is good too, sometimes,' Finn speculates. 'Doing nothing, I mean. Sometimes your body needs it. And your mind.'

Rachel smiles and reaches up on her tip-toes to kiss her boyfriend. Sometimes he is the smartest person she knows. Most often though, he is the stupidest.

'Oh, I almost forgot! How was the party?' Finn had spent the night at Puckerman's since he didn't want to disturb Kurt and the girls but also because he knew that some of the girls could get rather emotional when they got drunk and whether he liked it or not he had a history with quite a few of them. His subconscious immediately begun to tick the names off. There was Quinn, his first love; Rachel, his current girlfriend; Santana, one-nightstand, though Santana wasn't at the party so he didn't have to worry about her; Brittany, one date . . . or was it two?; Quinn again, as she cheated on Sam—God, he still feels horrible for doing that to Sam—and then it was Rachel again. The list could be made pretty long. But mostly it would consist of two recurring names: Quinn and Rachel. Thinking about how completely different the two girls are he almost finds it hard to believe that he has been in love with both of them – and still is in love with one of them. Talk about two people being each other's complete opposites. One blonde contra one brunette. One popular contra one unpopular. One who's living with a perfect little family who loves her and one who's living in a broken home, having once been kicked out of her own house. One who's being totally forward and open with her feelings and one that keeps them hidden in her heart, locked up behind a cold wall. One who always seems to win in the end and one that always ends up losing it all.

'Are you okay?' Rachel asks with a worried face. Obviously Finn's empty eyes—the ones that he gets while he is thinking too hard—gave him away. They always do.

He nods and pulls her into a side hug. 'Fine. I'm fine. Tell me about the party. Did you have fun?'

The petite brunette squints at him in an attempt of seeing through the façade he is trying to put up. But as she gets nothing but cheer confusion from him she decides to drop it and focus on his question instead. 'I had a really good time, as always when Kurt is around. He is a very good party host, in my opinion.' She smiles as she pictures the basement which Kurt had spent all afternoon to decorate for the party. 'When we marry I want him to plan our wedding reception,' she says with a broad smile and sparkling eyes.

At the words 'we' and 'marry' and 'our wedding', Finn unintentionally freezes. He hasn't paid a single though to the fact that he had actually in one fuzzy moment mentioned that he would like the two of them to get married someday.

Judging by Rachel's sudden change of mood from super happy to a mixture of worry and irritation Finn figures that his sudden twitch and momentarily petrifaction hadn't passed unnoticed. He lowers his head in shame like a dog that has gotten caught while stealing sausages from its owner's plate while he or she looked away. _How could I be so stupid_, he truly wants to leave his own body for a minute just so that he can beat himself up.

'You twitched!' Rachel points out. 'You twitched!' She pokes her finger against his chest angrily.

'Hey, hey, hey!' he puts his hands up in defense. 'Rach, calm down! I didn't mean to—'

'You forgot!' she cries and pushes herself away from him.

'No, no, no! I didn't.' _Liar, liar,_ his inner voice screams.

She sighs as she steps away from him. Her eyes are filling up with moist. 'I cannot believe that I thought that you would—'

'Hey, Rach,' he pleads and takes a step towards her. 'There has just been a lot going on in my head for the last couple of days.'

'Like what?' Rachel snaps and stares at him, hands firmly placed on her hips.

_Football, girls, cars, Santana's cleavage, you, Call of Duty and . . . well, girls._ He realizes tough that he cannot say those things to his girlfriend without further pissing her off. So instead he goes with, 'Well, you know . . . things about college, my job at Burt's shop, Glee Club. Those kind of things.' He shrugs. Rachel scoffs and pokes her foot at an old root that is sticking up under the half-decomposed sheet of leaves that are covering the ground. The tall boy slowly moves closer to her. 'I really love you,' he says, his voice is barely a whisper. 'You know that.'

She levels her head and peers up at him. _When did he come so close? _

He brushes a strand of dark brown hair from her eyes. 'Are we cool?' he queers quietly as his thumb gently graze her smooth skin. As she contemplates the arguments and the counterarguments for forgiving him for his lack of attention and awareness she wrinkles her forehead and purses her lips in true Rachel Berry spirit. 'So?' he asks after a moment.

Lowering her gaze again and licking her lips slowly, she comes to remember how many times she has been in this position, the one where she doesn't know if they—that often means him—are breaking up. 'We're cool,' she whispers after a while and steps into his now open arms.

Most people would probably not understand what they see in each other let alone understand how the two of them always seem to reconcile no matter what happens. The road Finn realizes has been rather bumpy. Ever since they first laid eyes on each other—or since he laid eyes on her, he didn't know she existed until halfway through freshman year—their relationship has been full of obstacles. First it was the simple fact that Finn was dating Quinn. That kind of solved itself though when the blonde cheated on him and ended up pregnant with his best friend's child. That made it pretty easy to break up with her. Then came Jessie St. James and threw a spanner into the works. And with him gone, in stepped Noah "Puck" Puckerman and grabbed Rachel from him once again. After that things went kind of smooth for a while before it surfaced that he had slept with Santana, and that became the second break-up for Rachel and him. Then somewhere after that Quinn walked into the picture again—or she was rather pulled into the pictured by Finn who persuade her into cheating on her then-boyfriend Sam Evans—but just as fast as she had appeared she was gone again. And all of that led up to _this_. Finn and Rachel, together again and hopefully this time it will last longer than six months.

* * *

He has troubles sleeping. He's had for quite some time. Simply there are a lot of things going on in his life right now. Just a few months ago he was taking his clothes off in Kentucky for money so that he could bring home cash for food and rent.

After having spent two hours of tossing and turning in his bed, he decides to pick up the iPhone from his jacket. He puts the headphones into his ears and scroll down the track list. To see that Quinn has got almost the entire soundtrack of the Lion King as well as Aladdin on her iPhone makes him smile. He knows how much she loves those songs, _A Whole New World_ being her absolute favorite.

After having skimmed through the entire track list he settles for Journey's _Don't Stop Believing_, making sure that the music that escapes the earphones isn't loud enough to wake up his younger siblings that are currently sleeping at either side of him. They fell asleep there while watching _A Goofy Movie_.

Their parents are out working night shifts to bring home some extra pay and the two young blonde kids are too scared to sleep alone in the room that the two of them share since they saw _Monster's Inc_. earlier today and strongly believe that there are monsters out there that feed on scaring children.

Sam smiles at the thought. They can be so cute, Stevie and Stacy, yet again they can be a real pain in the ass. Right about now though they're just adorable, both sound asleep against his body, his little sister resting her head against his shoulder nuzzling the fabric of his Star Wars tee.

The song ends and another one start, this time it is _Living on a Prayer_ by Bon Jovi. The feeling this song generates to his body is amazing. It has got a beat that makes it close to impossible for him to keep his body still and the lyrics are great. A real master piece in his opinion.

But for the sake of the children's sleep—since he feels his body starting to move slightly with the beat—he picks the iPhone up and change the track to a more soft song.

He backs out of the music library and opens the folder with photos. She's got quite a collection. He taps the first photo to enhance it. It is a nice picture of Quinn and Santana outside of the Lima Bean. They are both smiling as they are watching something out of the picture. Judging by their position and facial expressions none of them were aware that the photo was taken. Sam guesses that it is probably Brittany who has taken the photo as he finds her on a few of the next photos taken at the same location, either lacking Quinn or Santana. There are about a dozen of these photos.

Next he finds a couple of photos of Finn and Quinn, taken at Breadstix, the Lima Bean, school, Quinn's house and in some park he doesn't recognize. Common denominators throughout the pictures are their happy faces and somewhere deep down in his stomach Sam can feel something contract, he tries to convince himself that it is probably just gas from the kebab pizza he and Mercedes shared earlier today, but somewhere inside he knows that that is just bullshit.

The next couple of photos contains a variety of people, there are some with Kurt and Quinn trying on different clothes at some fashion store, then some of Kurt alone, a few with Kurt and Blaine posing proudly and then a couple of Quinn, Kurt and Blaine and an additional five with Blaine alone and two with Blaine and Kurt and some random red haired girl dressed in a white suite.

There are also a few pictures containing Mike, Tina, Mr. Schue, Mercedes, Quinn's mother, some other girls who Sam doesn't recognize and a few of Brittany's cat Mr. Tubbington.

Sam skips forward and finds photos of Brittany and Artie kissing outside of some theatre that is definitely not located in Lima. There are a couple of photos with Artie and Quinn too and even some with Santana and Artie, which surprises Sam a tad. He finds a few photos of Puck and his ex-girlfriend Lauren Zizes, some of Quinn and Zizes, a bunch of pictures of Santana and Puck, a dozen of Santana, Quinn and Puck. There are surprisingly few of Puck and Quinn alone though, just about ten or something and most of them are taken at events where several others of the Glee kids were present. He only finds about two or three pictures of the two alone that seem to have been taken by them while they were completely on their own. In one of them Quinn is holding her daughter Beth as Puck is leaning over her shoulder watching the baby sleep. The angle is bad though and from holding the camera some of Puck's arm covers the view. But all in all it is a nice picture. All three of them seem very happy, though Sam can see a hint of sadness in the eyes of his ex-girlfriend. She has mentioned to him a couple of times how she misses her baby and she has even once offered him the opportunity to raise Beth with her, an offer he declined stating that she shouldn't rush into adulthood but instead enjoy her youth. He had told her to 'Hold on to sixteen.' He had also told her that is was just 'rich white girl problems' something that he isn't equally proud of.

Much to his surprise—knowing that Quinn and Rachel haven't always gotten along and considering the love triangle of theirs, involving Finn, that happened last year—the next five images contains Rachel, Finn and Quinn in different combinations. The first one is taken of Rachel and Finn posing happily in front of the camera, the second of Rachel alone, the third and fourth of Rachel and Quinn and the fifth of the three of them together.

Then he finds the pictures of them—Quinn and him—from when they were together. There are about fifteen of them, most of them taken in school by class mates, but there are a few that he recognizes as pictures that he or she has taken while there was just the two of them.

He notices that one of the photos is taken from Burt and Carole's wedding. He and Quinn are sitting at a table—if he remembers right; they were watching Kurt and Finn dance—behind Rachel. Quinn is looking absolutely amazing in a red gown and her blonde hair pulled up into a bun. He—he notices and smiles despite himself—is looking pretty good himself in a black tuxedo and a bow tie, as long as you ignore the ugly big blackeye he is sporting He is sitting behind her, his arms pulled around her and her hands are on his. They are both smiling, just as the people in the background, though they are not the one that he is looking at now.

He jumps to the next photo which shows the two of them in Glee Club, sitting next to each other on the top row. She is basically sitting in his lap leaning against his chest. The arm that he has wrapped around her back has its hand resting on her thigh, right about were her WMHS cheerleading dress ends. His other hand is resting on top of hers on his denim clad lap. They both look extremely focused. Sam tries to remember who took the photo but comes up blank. _Whoever it was took one hell of a nice picture, _he notes_._

And like this he continues for about ten pictures, all of them showing the two of them happily together either cuddling or kissing.

The thirteenth picture however causes him to laugh out loud almost waking his younger sibling up. The picture is of him only, dressed in a pair of very tight golden shorts. He knows exactly from where the picture is taken; The Rocky Horror show they did last year, in which he had the leading role – for a while. He cannot help but to smile. _Oh my gosh she actually kept this! I look pathetic and scared out of my skin! But the abs are pretty okay. _He absentmindedly reaches under his shirt and carefully pinches his hard muscles.

Then he decides to call it a night and pulls the earphones out of his ears, puts the iPhone on the night stand and kisses his two siblings goodnight once again before he gives the Sandman another chance.

* * *

Author's note

So the seventh chapter is up! Hope you liked it and please don't forget to review! :)


	8. An Unexpected Encounter

Not Making the Same Mistake Again

Summary: Less than four months remain of the school year, for some students it's the last four months at William McKinley High. Therefore it's natural for the kids to want to make the best of the remaining time. However, a lot of things can go wrong in sixteen weeks . . .

Rated Teen for language primarily. There may be some spoilers for the two first seasons of the show as well as the third up until somewhere short after the episode _Hold on to Sixteen_.

I hope you will enjoy reading this multi-character fanfiction as much as I have enjoyed writing it!

I apologize in advance for any incorrect grammar or typo that may occur.

Reviews are very welcome.

Disclaimer: I do_not_ own _Glee_ nor do I own any of its characters. The same goes for anything involving the music mentioned.

End of author's note. Now on to the story!

* * *

_Chapter 7 – An unexpected encounter_

[SUNDAY]

'Sammy,' his younger sister asks as he feeds another Disney movie into the DVD, the young girl has been nagging him all day about how much she wants to watch _the Little Mermaid_ this forenoon, 'when is Quinny coming back?' She is watching him with sparkling big blue eyes.

'Uh . . . what do you mean, Stacy?' Sam stutters at the unexpected question.

'When is Quinny coming back,' the little girl repeats her question, 'I miss her.'

'Uh . . . I don't know,' he lies as he climbs onto the bed next to his sister. He puts a pillow behind his back and leans back against the wall. Stacy cuddles up close to him and puts her head against his chest.

'Do you miss Quinny?' she asks after a moment, her young voice a soft half-whisper. He strokes the blonde hair from the little girl's forehead and leans down and plants a tender kiss on the top of her head. _I miss her every day._ She turns her head to look up at him. 'Sammy?' she asks when he doesn't answer her initial question.

'You wouldn't understand, Stacy,' he tries to reason and strokes her cheek.

'Doesn't she like us?' she queers with sadness in her soft voice.

'Oh, yeah, she likes you. I know she does.' He glances down at his little sister who is looking back up at him with big blue eyes.

'She likes you too,' Stacy says and offers her older brother a small smile. She is missing a tooth, and it just makes her even more adorable.

He chuckles softly at her innocence. _How do you explain to a six year old that you've broken up with your girlfriend because she cheated on you with your best friend? And how do you tell her that you have moved on and are dating another girl?_ 'Now look at the TV or you'll miss the entire film,' he motions towards the LCD screen were Ariel is entering the great underwater palace, 'Remember, you were the one who wanted to watch this movie, I wanted to watch _Cars_.' The little blonde girl reluctantly drops the subject and turns her attention back to the TV screen.

Half an hour later when Sam is floating somewhere between consciousness and light sleep his little sister turns back to gaze up at him. When catching his eyes flutter from dreams and his lips moving, forming words, she pulls at his arm, bringing him back to consciousness.

'Sammy,' she whispers, 'the movie has ended.'

'Uh . . . What?' he mumbles and rubs his sleepy eyes.

'The movie,' she points to the TV were the credits are rolling.

'Oh, okay.' He yawns and pops his back, getting himself ready to get up from the bed and put in another DVD. This time he is choosing, this time they're watching _Cars_.

'You said her name,' Stacy suddenly says with a sneaky smile on her face.

'W-what?'

'In your sleep.'

'What? Whose?' he asks in rear confusion.

'Quinn's,' his little sister says proudly. As she catches her big brothers' cheeks redden her smile widens even more. 'And I saw the pictures,' she continues in a happy voice.

'What pictures?' Sam asks having completely forgotten about the iPhone.

'The ones you watched last night. Were you and Quinny was kissing and holding hands,' his little sister says in a wiseacre voice, stressing the fact that she is one hundred percent sure of what she saw.

_Oh crap!_ 'You saw those?' Sam asks in panic.

'Mm,' his sister hums and nods.

_What the hell, man, what am I supposed to do now? What am I supposed to tell Stacy? And what if Mercedes finds out, what should I say to her?_ _That I just happened to take Quinn's iPhone . . . oh and instead of turning it back immediately I listened to all the recordings and looked at every damn photo on it._ Sam rakes a hand through his blonde hair. 'Stacy,' he says, 'you have to promise me you won't say this to anyone, okay?'

'Why?' the girl asks confused.

'Because, uh . . . because, that would make, uh, that would make Quinn very sad. Yes, it would make _her_ sad. It would make _me_ sad too, if you told anyone, okay?' _Great, lie to the kid. Very good Sam . . . _

The young Evans girl nods her head quickly, the last thing she wants to do is to make two of the people she cares the most about in this world sad.

'I won't tell anyone, Sammy. I promise,' she whispers.

* * *

Sighing heavily as she drops down onto her bed, Mercedes inwardly kicks herself for not making said bed earlier in the morning. It is a lot more comfortable to fall onto a made bed than a one where it looks like a tornado has swept over it. She reaches over the edge of the bed and grabs one of the pillows on the floor—a purple one—and places it behind her head. Another troubled sigh escapes from her lips as her deep brown eyes are tracing the shadows in the ceiling, cast by the tree outside her window. The shadows are moving slowly and harmoniously. Something she would kill to have her thoughts do too – moving slowly and harmoniously. Instead they are spinning like if her head was the drum of a washing machine.

_It sucks_, she cries quietly and squeezes her eyes shut. _It fucking suck!_ Mercedes is usually not the one to curse and she is definitely not someone to use the F-word. And that hasn't got as much to do with the fact that she is a Christian and visits the church every Sunday as it has to with her just thinking that it sounds bad. It sounds filthy. Though there are moments, times like these, when the word is accepted. Okay to use. At least once or twice . . . And now is one of those moments.

With her eyes still shut she runs through what has happened the last weeks. Because so far it's been a rather odd year, and that says a lot considering what happened last year . . . Mercedes cannot help but smile and roll her eyes behind her closed eyelids as she makes a short trip down the memory lane of last year. _There was Puck being sent to Juve, he probably deserved it; Sam coming to McKinley; Kurt transferring to Dalton Academy, God I wanted to punch Karofsky in the face for making Kurt transfer; Finn cheating on Rachel; Rachel cheating on Finn; Quinn cheating on Sam; Finn dumping Quinn's ass, again; Brittany dumping Artie; Sam dumping Quinn; Santana hooking up with Karofsky, we definitely didn't see that one coming; Kurt coming back to McKinley; the unforgettable prom; New York; another one of Quinn's mental breakdowns; and Sam and I . . . _She sighs and bites down on her bottom lip, it has become more of an everyday procedure. She never did this before, contemplating and dwelling. It isn't her.

_Speaking of Sam and I_, she says to herself. _What are we doing? What am _I _doing?_ Another thing she never did before was hurting people. Sure she could be a little bitchy sometimes, but that comes with the diva attitude, she never meant any harm. _Now, I cannot seem to do a thing without hurting someone . . . _

A tear spills from her eye; she hadn't even noticed that she had started to tear up. Wiping it away with the back of her right hand she takes a deep breath to rally herself. She had told both Sam and Shane that she needed time to think, that what she was doing to them, that the person she was becoming wasn't her. She had done the right thing, by taking a step back to think, of that she is certain. But what has this 'time to think' given her? The answer to that question is: not much.

She rolls over to the side, putting her arms around herself, pulling herself into a firm and soothing embrace. _It cannot go on like this_, she point out to herself. _I _have_ to make a choice._ _Shane, Sam? Sam, Shane? Or none of them . . ._

She swallows hard as she thinks back of the great moments that she has had with both of the boys. The lump in her throat is growing bigger and more difficult to breathe around by the second. Soon she won't be able to hold back the stinging water from pouring out of her eyes.

_With Shane I'll have someone to fall back onto; someone that I know won't leave me for someone prettier or skinnier. And with Shane I will be dating the 'guy from the football team that got a scholarship', and I will never have to compete with him in Glee Club or listen to when Santana makes fun of his lips. With Shane, I will also, have a secured future with a good economy and— _Mercedes' words dies out. _Who am I fooling?_ She squeezes her eyes shut yet again and then shakes her head. _Money doesn't mean a thing. I'm just packing up excisions to why I should choose Shane over Sam . . . _Another tear falls down her cheek and it leaves a silver trail behind. _Sam is, Sam, _she sniffs and draws a ragged breath. _Sam is . . . sweet, he is sincere, and natural. He never pretends to be someone he's not . . . He never hides his feelings. _Her heart aches from remembering how she turned him down when he asked her to be his date on Valentine's Day. _You're so stupid, Mercedes_, a tiny voice tells her.

_Love's stupid_, Mercedes says and wipes at her eyes. She inhales deeply as she lets her gaze sweep over her room. It is a complete mess. Clothes and books and sheet music everywhere. Not to mention dust. Yuck! Maybe she should clean it up and listen to songs about heart break as she does so? Maybe it will help her clear her head. After contemplating the option for a second or two she decides that it is probably a good idea, or at least her parents will think it is a good idea.

She connects her iPhone to its docking station and settles on REM's _Everybody Hurts_. She isn't much of a REM fan, they are a little too much rock for her liking, but she has heard that their song _Everybody Hurts_ should be one of the best sad songs ever made, so she decides to give it a shot. _At least it cannot make me feel more down than I already am_, she mutters.

_When the day is long and the night, the night is yours alone._

Making her bed is the first thing she does. It is boring as hell, but a simple thing as just making the bed gives the whole room a much tidier impression. Next she moves on to picking up all of her clothes from the floor and the furniture. It is a lot of fabric that she has scattered around the small room. She frowns, stunned by how much garments she actually owns.

_When you're sure you've had enough of this life, well hang on._

As she is almost done picking up her dresses and shirts and pants and what else there is that belongs in her closet she comes upon a dark purple and black dress. There is a glittery print at the front of the dress and a bow at the back of it. _Kurt's party . . ._ she remembers. Just when she thought is wasn't possible, her mode dropped a notch.

_Sometimes everything is wrong._

The party had started off great, sure there had been a few awkward seconds as she first sat her foot in the basement, were the party was already at full swing, but after a few drink they had all gotten along pretty well. That was until a few hours in when Brittany decided that they should play Truth or Dare – or rather Truth or Drink. At first it had been hilarious, but when the questions became a little bit more intimate, things had derailed pretty quickly. _Of course it wasn't all Quinn's fault_, Mercedes reasons. _After all Brittany was the one asking the questions. But still . . . didn't ex-head Cheerio overreact a little? Just a _little_? Or am I just not willing to see why she reacted the way she did?_ She sits down on her bed, suddenly losing all her will-power to clean her room or to even move. _Does she still . . . I mean, what they had . . . it meant something. _She shakes her head in frustration. Her decision suddenly became a lot harder to make.

_When you're on your own in this life . . ._

Picking up a green pillow from her bed, she doesn't even bother to try to hold back her emotions. Her tears are flooding down her cheeks as she hurls the pillow at the wall. The impact is soft and soundless but as the overstuffed cushion falls to the floor it knocks down a vase with red and white roses on its way down, flowers which she got from her mother at Valentine's Day.

Mercedes winces as she hears the glass vase crash against the floor. It is one of her mother's favorites. A translucent blue and purple tall vase that she bought when she visited Rome sometime before Mercedes was born.

_When you think you've had too much of this life to hang on._

A dark pool quickly forms around the shattered glass, the carpet absorbing the liquid like a sponge. Mentally kicking herself for her tremendous stupidity, Mercedes leaves her bed and kneels beside the mess she just caused. Careful not to cut herself on the shards she begins to pick up what remains of the vase.

Soon after she has left her position at the bed she hears a light knock on the door and then, 'Mercedes, sweetheart, is everything okay?' from the other side of the white painted oak.

She squeezes her eyes shut and prays for her voice not to break. 'I'm fine, mom.' Unfortunately God must have missed her prayers, because her otherwise soft and deep voice comes out both hoarse and raspy. The brass knob is turned and the lugging sound of the door being pushed open echoes through Mercedes' head. _Great, just what I need . . ._

Mercedes' mother pops her head into the room. 'Are you sure, honey?' she asks, but as she sees the mess in which Mercedes is figuratively sitting she pushes the door fully open and steps into the room. Her deep brown eyes shifts from the pillow to the shattered class and the flowers and up to Mercedes and then back to the pillow. Circuit complete. She knows that she isn't supposed to but all Mercedes wants to do is to scream at her mother to leave her alone. To her relief she manages to fight the impulse to do so and instead she drops her gaze to her lap and stays silent.

_And everybody hurts, sometime._

Ms. Jones, being the understandable and kind person as she is, smiles in compassion and walks to sit beside her daughter on the floor. 'Is there something you'd like to talk about, sweetie?' she asks and brushes a tear away from her daughter's cheek. The girl shakes her head in denial. The last thing she wants to do is to drag someone else into this mess. Ms. Jones smiles again. 'Has it anything to do with the two boys at school?'

Shocked and terrified Mercedes glance up at her mother. 'H-how do you?'

'Mother's know, you know,' she chuckles. 'No, not really. I overheard you talking to a friend of yours on the phone last week.' A light shade of scarlet sneaks up on her cheeks. Mercedes drops her gaze again; a simple gesture to show her mother that she got it right. 'Are you having trouble choosing?' Mercedes blinks confused. _How does she know all of this?_ Ms. Jones chuckles again. And as if she could read her daughter's mind she explains that, 'Since you are one in the Jones-clan, handsome and proud as we are, there aren't as many other explanations.' She nudges her daughter in the shoulder. 'So do you feel like sharing your dilemmas?'

Mercedes sighs. _I guess it won't make it worse . . ._ Then she tells her mother all about Shane and her and Sam and her and everything else that makes her life a living hell right about now. When she is finished her mother pads her on the shoulder and tells her that whatever she decides to do, she will always be there to support her.

The girl mumbles an affected 'Thank you' as her mother gets back onto her feet.

Just as Ms. Jones is about to leave the room she turns back to her daughter. 'Mercedes, just remember one thing: follow your heart.' Then she is gone.

_So hold on, hold on._

Listening as the song ends Mercedes realizes what she should do. What she will do. _I am going to do what I should have done from the beginning. I'm going to do the right thing. What's best for me and for all of us. End of discussion. _

With a sad but still proud smile she gets up from her bed and scoops up her clothes. Walking over to the laundry bag and dropping them with a relieved sigh she turns around and pads over to the iPhone docking station. _No more songs about heartbreaks_ _. . ._ she mumbles. The next tune that is heard leaving the speakers are the jolly tones of Katarina and the Waves' _Walking on Sunshine._

* * *

He knows he should probably not be doing this, especially not since he got caught by his sister last time. To be honest he should have returned the iPhone at the very first moment he found it in his car. But unfortunately he couldn't resist the urge of peeping into her private life.

And here he lies, again, on his back on top of his bed, with the earphones plugged into his ears and the iPhone in his hands. He has already gone through all of her pictures, one by one, and watched a few of the shorter video clips she has stored on the white little piece of technology. The video clips had been nothing special, mostly short videos of Santana, Quinn and Brittany making some funny dance moves or performing some song. The audio recordings on the other hand were a lot more exciting, mostly because Brittany always seems to turn the record-button down by mistake.

The first audio recording he listens to was, judging by the sound and time, recorded in either Quinn's, Santana's or Brittany's house.

'_. . . s so cool! Who gave it to you?'_ he hears Brittany ask with her bubbly voice.

'_My mother bought it last week,'_ Quinn replies.

Brittany again,_ 'Oh, how sweet of her! Wish I had one of these!'_

'_You already do, Britt, and you've got an iPad and an iPod too,'_ Sam can hear Santana say a bit annoyed.

'_Oh, I do? Yeah . . . right. I do. But mine doesn't have this much memory . . .'_ Brittany notes.

'_Have you tried deleting all those one hour video clips filmed in your pocket before trying to put in more music?' _Sam had to bite his lip not to laugh; doing such a thing was definitely a typical Brittany thing to do.

'_Oh . . . no. Thank you San . . . But why have you filmed my pocket? Isn't that dark? . . . And boring?'_

Sam can hear someone sigh loudly, he puts his bets on Santana. _'_We_ didn't film the inside of your pocket – you did!'_

'_Why would I do that?' _Typical Brittany again.

Another sigh and he can hear Quinn giggle in the background as Santana answers the tall blonde. '_Because you accidently hit the record button, baby.'_

'_Aha . . .'_

'_While the two of you finish your lovers' quarrel I'm gonna go and get some more Diet Coke and chips. Try to keep it civilized, will you, ladies?' _Sam can hear footsteps going from left to right and then diminish into another room. So now it is confirmed; they're at the Fabray house.

He can hear Santana whisper. '_So how do you think her date with the new kid went?'_

'_Date? When was Quinn on a date?'_

'_Last night, stupid! With that blonde guy with the big mouth.'_ Sam snickers at Santana's mentioning of him. He's grown pretty used to being called names by her now and it doesn't bother him nearly as much as it used to do.

'_Oh . . . was that a date? I thought they just won the duet competition . . . besides you didn't have to call me stupid, San.'_

'_I'm sorry, but sometimes you're just . . . aww, forget it! Yeah, they won the competition, but come on, even a blind man would have been able to tell from their performance that there was something more there!'_

'_But, Santana . . . I though blind men couldn't see . . .'_

Another loud sigh._ 'They can't, it's just a saying.'_

'_Oh . . . okay.'_

'_Guys, we're almost out on Diet Coke so I brought some Pepsi too.'_ Quinn's voice announces as Sam hears her footsteps against the carpet.

'_It'll do. Can you hand me one, Britt?'_ There is a slight sound of something being picked up from a hard surface. _'Thanks.'_

'_Did you bring the chips?'_ Brittany asks.

There is a rustling sound from when the chips bag is being ripped opened. _'Here you go, Britt.'_

'_Thanks! Yummy . . . Sour cream and union, my favorite.'_

'_So, Q, are you gonna share the details of your date with Trouty Mouth?_'

He can hear Quinn's warming giggle. '_No, why would I do that?'_

'_Because that's what girlfriends are supposed to do.' _Santana points out in her wiseacre voice.

'_But I thought we were monogamous now, Santana?'_ Brittany queers confused and Sam almost chokes on his own spit as he was just about to swallow when the daffy blonde asked the question.

'_I didn't mean girlfriends like _that_, Britt . . . I meant like friends. Like you and Tina.'_

'_Oh . . . okay._ Sam smiles at the taller blonde's cluelessness.

'_So are you gonna tell us, Q?' _Santana pushes.

Quinn goes for a last attempt at covering up._ 'It wasn't even a date.'_

'_Yeah . . . right . . . but, you're telling us anyway.'_

'_I don't have much of a choice, do I?' _Quinn sighs heavily.

'_Nope,' _Santana and Brittany both answer simultaneously.

'_Well . . . we just ate . . . at Breadstix.'_

'_That's it?'_ Santana queers, obviously not buying Quinn's story.

Quinn quickly answers. _'Yes, I swear!'_

'_Did you kiss him? _Santana chuckles.

'_What?_ _Oh my God, no! What do you think of me?' _Quinn gasps.

'_He's kinda cute . . . and, well, so are you . . .'_ Santana suggests. _So Santana actually think I look good . . . despite the name calling, _Sam notes.

Sam can hear the taller blonde ask Santana_, 'Are you hitting on Quinn?'_

Santana simply replies with a flat, _'No.'_

'_Come on guys, it was _one_ dinner!'_ Quinn pleads, which causes Sam to smile despite himself. _Which she had me pay for because a real gentleman pays on the first date, _he remembers.

'_You said dinner, not free-meal nor free-dinner!'_ The Latina points out, almost shouting.

Quinn sighs resignedly_ 'So what?'_

'_I think you're leaving a big part of the puzzle out,' _Santana notes.

He could hear Quinn sigh loudly once again. _'Okay, okay, okay . . . he paid . . . Sam paid.'_

'_So it _was_ a _date_! I knew it!'_ Santana exclaims.

Sam hears Brittany clap her hands._ 'Yay! That's awesome, Q!_

'_I didn't say we were dating, I just admitted to him paying!' _Quinn still refuses to give in.

'_Which is basically the same thing as dating . . .'_ Santana points out.

'_Yeah'_ he can hear Brittany support Santana. '_Hey, guys . . . is this one supposed to be shining green?'_

'_What?'_ Quinn queers, having completely forgotten about the conversation they were just having.

'_No,' _the Latina answers,_ 'that means your recording, Britt.'_

'_What! Turn it off!' _He can hear Quinn shout in panic._ 'Now!'_

Brittany asks,_ 'How?'_

'_Push the bottom with the red square,' _Santana instructs.

'_Oh . . . ok—_' there is a muffled sound then the recording ends.

* * *

After what happened at Kurt's party she feels a strong need to think and clear her head and her mother once said, when they still talked to each other, that a walk outdoors, preferably in the park, is the best medicine. Fresh air, bird song and the rustle of leaves; it is amazing how calming it can be. Therefore she had an hour ago grabbed her coat and gloves and exited her house, taken the long walk into the center of Lima.

An hour into her walk she bumps into a familiar figure. 'Mr. Eaton?' she asks surprised as she sees her English teacher exiting the local record store.

'Hey, Quinn!' he says with a genuine smile.

'Have you upgraded your music collection?' she queers. She knows it's not her matter to ask but she can't help it. She likes talking to him.

'Yes, actually I have,' he laughs and holds up couple of CD's, that Quinn guesses are metal or punk judging by the design of the albums. 'So what are you doing here?' the question asked with warmth.

'Uh, nothing . . . killing time, you know,' she shrugs.

'That's another way to spend your Sunday,' he chuckles. 'Missing school, aren't you?' he asks with irony in his tone.

Quinn laughs. 'No, not really.' Mr. Eaton starts to slowly move along the pedestrian street, Quinn falling into a pace at his side. 'Do you like it here, Mr. Eaton? she asks after a short moment of silence.

'In Lima?'

The blonde nods. 'Mm-hm.'

The tall brown haired man shrugs. 'Yeah, I guess so. I mean it's nothing like L.A. but it's kind of cozy, you know.'

'How is it, living in L.A.?' Quinn asks out if pure curiosity.

'Like the opposite of living here,' he laughs. 'Jokes aside, it's great, it's a lot warmer, you have the beach nearby all the time, there are palm trees and surfers everywhere and every now and then you bump into someone famous. The downside is that you're not safe like you are in a smaller city like Lima, where everybody knows you. In L.A. you always have to be careful and observant when you're walking the streets alone at night.' His mentioning of walking the streets alone at night gets her thinking of Sam and how he had picked her up and made sure that she got home safe and sound this Friday night when she was walking home from Kurt's party. And it struck her how bad she had behaved against him that night. 'Quinn, you there? she hears Mr. Eaton's voice.

She takes a deep breath. 'Yeah . . .'

He observes her from the corner of his eye. This young lady came across as a pained and broken one the very first time he laid his eyes on her. And he can see it there in her eyes now, the sadness and the feeling of insufficiency. He has seen it before and it is a view that he doesn't like. The memories it brings back right about kills him.

'You mentioned bumping into famous people,' she says. 'Who've you met? Any A-list celebrities?'

He chuckles softly. 'Well . . . yeah.'

'Tell me!'

'Once when I was at Malibu Beach I think I saw Cameron Diaz.'

'Seriously?' Quinn asks, her jaw dropping. She has always liked Cameron Diaz.

The tall man nods. 'In a white bikini,' he snickers. Quinn rolls her eyes at the bikini comment. Such a typical guy thing to say. 'I bumped into Clooney once, too. At a Lakers game.'

'No way?' Quinn's eyes go wide.

'I'm being honest with you,' Mr. Eaton assures his student.

The blonde girl sighs dreamingly. 'God, that's so cool!'

Mr. Eaton smiles. 'Hey, Quinn, it's pretty cold. What do you say about me getting us some hot chocolate?'

Her eyebrows knit together with surprise. _Did your teacher just offer to buy you hot chocolate?_ she asks herself. 'Okay, I guess,' she manages.

'Okay, do you know any good café or coffee shop?' He looks around to see if there's a sigh somewhere saying 'Hot chocolate for sale!' but he doesn't find any.

'Around the corner there's a café,' she suggests.

Her teacher nods. 'Good.'

They walk the short distance to the café, talking about Lima in general, what is good and what is not so good about the small town. They both agree on that on the plus side they have the solidarity, the low crime rate and the wide range of sports that you can execute or watch. On the minus side they find the constant gossiping and the school meals. And before they know it they have reached the small café.

Mr. Eaton holds the door open for Quinn as she walks into the cozy café. Sam had taken her here sometimes and she has always liked the warm atmosphere of the place. It brings good memories back to her. With Finn it had always been Breadstix.

Quinn and Mr. Eaton walk up to the counter and he leans in and asks her what she wants to drink, an indication that he is planning on paying for them both. 'Just regular hot cocoa,' she answers.

'Okay, I've got it, you can go pick a table,' he says as he fishes his wallet out of his leather jacket.

Quinn strolls out into the swarm of tables and chairs and ends up picking one at the corner or the room yet facing the windows. She takes off her coat and hangs it over the back of her chair. _Mr. Eaton was right, it is cold outside, _she notes as she feels her fingers throb from the warmth that is now slowly seeping back into them, turning them a tad red and slightly difficult to bend.

She sits down and absently starts playing with a lock of her hair. It is a bit shorter now than it had been at this time last year, but it will soon grow out again, she notes. She had gotten help from Santana and Brittany to cut it off when they were in New York for Nationals last year, but it had already grown a great amount since then. Now it is reaching just beneath her shoulders.

She watches Mr. Eaton talk to the barista and she cannot help but to smile as she let her mind stroll off. "_We're not using these,"_ she can hear herself saying somewhere in the back of her head. "_Why?"_ she can hear him ask. "_Because a gentleman always pays on the first date_." It had been the best first date of her life.

Unaware of it herself, she smiles and sighs. _Only a gentleman pays on the first date . . ._ Then reality hits her blunt in the face. _What in the world was I just thinking? Oh my God, Quinn . . . he's your English teacher for God sake! Ugh . . . you perv._

Mr. Eaton approaches the table with a cup of steaming hot liquid in each hand. He chuckles softly as he sees her. 'Are you okay, Quinn? A second ago it looked like you were flying on pink cotton clouds now it looks more like you're going to be sick. Should I get you a glass of water instead?' His smile has faded away to give room for a worried frown.

'What?' she exclaims, terrified about the fact that he might have seen her drifting off like that and that he might figure out why.

'Are you okay?' he asks again as he puts down the cups.

She nods rapidly. 'Fine.'

'Is there something you'd like to talk about?'

This time she shakes her head.

He glances at her from over the rim of his mug. 'Are you sure? 'Cause I'm a pretty good listener.'

She smiles at him and shakes her head again. 'Yes, I'm sure.' She takes a sip of her hot chocolate. 'Tell me more about L.A.'

He chuckles again. 'As you wish.'

He tells her about the atmosphere and the long golden beaches. He tells her which parts of the town to visit and which to avoid. He describes the feeling of the town during the Academy Awards or the VMA's or the premiere of a great movie. Everything being told with such enthusiasm and empathy that Quinn almost gets the feeling that she has lived there herself. Her English teacher is very good at telling stories she notes.

* * *

After having spent almost two hours in the park with Stevie and Stacy, Sam is looking forward to drive home and spend the night alone watching one of the _Star Wars_ movies in his collection. Or perhaps he is going for a marathon, watching all of them in a row. He already knows them by every single scene but he still can't get enough of them. George Lucas is a genius and a God to him! James Cameron is pretty awesome too, having directed both _Avatar_ and the _Terminator trilogy_, but still to Sam, Lucas holds the number one spot.

'Hey guys, hurry up!' he tells the two youngest in the Evans clan.

They are walking along the pedestrian street in central Lima.

'My fingers are cold,' Stevie complains.

'Then move them in your mittens or put them in your pockets,' Sam tells his little brother.

'I want hot chocolate,' the young boy says and gives his big brother the sad puppy eyes.

Sam sighs loudly. _Why was I born without a no-saying capacity? _'Okay, okay,' he says and grabs Stacy's hand as they are about to cross a street where cars are allowed.

'Can I get whipped cream on mine?' his little sister asks with glittering eyes while fluttering her eyelashes.

_They know exactly where my soft spots are_, Sam notes. 'Of course, Stacy,' he smiles down at the beautiful little girl.

They walk a couple of yards before they turn a corner and set their aim on the small café at the end of the street.

'Look, Sam, it's Quinny!' Stacy exclaims as she catches sight if the blonde girl seated alone at a table inside the café.

Sam shoves his free hand into his pocket to make sure that the iPhone is still there. _Perfect timing_, he points out. _Now you can give her the iPhone back and at the same time the kids can say "hi" to her. They have missed her so much! And so have I. She looks so beautiful . . . Wait, did you just say that you've missed Quinn Fabray, man? She's your ex – get over her!_

He pushes the door open and lets the kids run before him into the café. The two younger blondes dances their way to the counter and motions for Sam to hurry up. 'I want one of those,' Stacy says and points to a picture of a hot chocolate drink with whipped cream on the top.

'I want one too,' Stevie says upon seeing what his younger sister is pointing at.

Sam orders three cups of the cocoa drink and hands a ten dollar bill to the red haired barista. Stacy and Stevie both pull at his arm to make him move faster as he tries to balance the three cups on the tray and at the same time trying to avoid falling over any chairs or tables.

'Hey, Quinn,' Stevie says and blushes a bit as the trio reaches the table were pretty blonde is seated all alone.

Sam cannot help but to smile a bit at his little brother's reddening cheeks. He knows about Stevie's little crush on Quinn.

Quinn is a bit startled by the unexpected sound of someone mentioning her name. She turns around and finds Stevie, Stacy and Sam standing there. 'Stevie, Stacy! Hi guys! She says with a big smile on her face. Then she turns to the older Evans boy, 'Sam,' she simply greets.

'Hey Quinn,' Sam says in a low voice. Then he feels Stacy tug at his arm.

'Sam,' she says. The intention behind her pulling at his sleeve and those sad puppy eyes is obvious. She wants him to ask Quinn if they can sit with her.

Sam remembers the iPhone resting in his pocket and reasons with himself that perhaps sitting down and talk to her wouldn't be that bad of an idea. 'Stacy wonders if we, uh, can sit with you,' he curses himself for stuttering out the question and for blaming it all on the little girl.

'Uh . . .' she hesitates for a moment, considering whether Mr. Eaton would think it okay that Sam and his two siblings join them. She would love to have them sit with her, but perhaps now is not the best time. Wait . . . did she just admit to _love _having _Sam_ sit next to her? 'Okay, sure. Make yourselves comfortable' _Oh God that sounded wrong . . . make yourselves comfortable? What was that?_

'So,' Sam starts after sitting down opposite Quinn, 'feeling better today?' He nervously throws her a glance every now and then. Since when did he feel nervous like this talking to one of his friends?

'Have you been sick, Quinn?' Stacy asks worriedly while licking the cream off of her drink. The sweet thoughtfulness from the young girl causes both Sam and Quinn to smile. And at that moment their eyes meet. It is probably the first time since before Christmas. A strange—but still quite pleasant—warm pulse travels through Sam's body and up to his face, making his cheeks turn a dark pink shade. 'But what did Sam—' Stacy begins to ask but Quinn interrupts her by explaining to her that Sam gave her a ride home on Friday night since it was so cold outside. Stacy seems satisfied with the explanation and turns her attention back to the chocolate drink in front of her.

'So . . . how are you doing?' Quinn asks after a while, referring to Sam's family's economic situation.

'Uh, dad's got a job at a local men's clothing store and mom's working day at a kindergarten and halftime on the grave shift at a rest-home. So we've got enough to make a pretty decent living.'

Quinn can hear the happiness in Sam's voice but she can also detect a hint of sadness there. She knows he doesn't like having his parents work this much and being away from his younger siblings. 'And how about you? she queers.

He shrugs. 'I'm delivering pizzas again, but only on the weekends though. Delivered one at Kurt's last night. That guy eats _a lot_ of pizza.'

'I'm glad you're doing better, I really am,' the blonde girl says and takes a sip of her drink.

Sam nods slowly. _It's time to tell her about the iPhone now. You've got the balls, man._

'Uh, Quinn, there's this one thing . . .' he begins hesitantly.

'Yeah, what?' she asks, feeling her throat contracting.

'Uh . . . the other day . . . when I drove you home—'

'Sorry it took so long, Quinn,' a familiar voice says from behind Sam. 'But those brokers had quite a bunch of questions—' the man continues but stops short as he becomes aware of Sam and his two siblings.

_Oh no . . ._ Quinn sighs.

'Sam Evans?' the man queers as he sees the face of the young blonde man.

Sam goes tongue-tied upon seeing his English teacher walk up to the table and tell Quinn his sorry about being gone for a while.

Completely confused Sam shifts his gaze from Quinn to Mr. Eaton, back to his ex-girlfriend and over to Mr. Eaton again. _Why the heck would Quinn be here on a Sunday, drinking hot chocolate with our _English teacher_?_ _Wait, what did Mercedes tell him yesterday? Didn't she say that she had heard that Quinn and Rachel had gotten into a fight at Kurt's party about whether Quinn had a thing for the new teacher or not? Oh man, seriously . . . Quinn and Mr. Eaton? _The thought that Quinn might be having an affair with their teacher is sickening and Sam can feel his stomach contort. _Oh crap, I think I'm gonna be sick . ._ .

Quinn could swear that she could feel her heart drop as she saw Mr. Eaton walk back into the café and towards her table, the table that she was currently sharing with Sam and his younger siblings. Could the timing get any worse? As the tall handsome teacher approaches the table and says that he is sorry for letting her wait she feels like she wants to sink right through the floor. _This can't be happening!_ She can see Sam losing the rosy color of his cheeks and instead turn a pale beige shade.

'Nice to see you, Sam,' Mr. Eaton says and pulls another stool to the table and sits down to Quinn's left. 'How has your weekend been,' the man asks politely.

Sam hesitates a moment, having all his focus on not losing his cool. Finally after a while he answers with a short, 'Good, thanks.' He throws a quick glance at Quinn. _How can she be so stupid that she hangs out with Mr. Eaton in public like this? Unbelievable!_

'What were you going to say about last Friday?' Quinn asks Sam, but it's not without a worry she does so. She believes she has a small hint on what he's going to say, and if she is right she's not going to like it. But she doesn't have to worry for much longer.

'You know what, just forget about it,' Sam says and abruptly stands up, almost knocking his chair over in the process. 'Stevie, Stacy, come on!'

'But, Sammy, I'm not finished,' his sister pleads.

'Come on,' Sam ignores her and starts walking towards the door, shoving his hands deep into his pockets, closing his hands into tight fists. Stevie and Stacy reluctantly leave their seats, wave goodbye to Quinn and follow their older brother out through the door.

'Why did we have to go?' Stacy sniffs as the blonde trio leaves the café behind. She is struggling to keep up with her brother.

'Because Sammy's jealous of Quinn's new boyfriend, stupid,' Stevie informs his sister.

'Shut up! Both of you!' Sam orders as they cross the street. _Oh man what are you doing, snapping at your siblings like that . . ._ He makes a mental note to make up for the kids when they get back home. After all they're the only ones who are innocent in this.

* * *

'What was that all about?' Eaton asks confused after having seen Sam storm out of the café just a few seconds ago. Judging by the concerned look on the teacher's face, Quinn guesses that the man somehow feels responsible for the conversation's outgoing.

She shrugs and sighs loudly. 'I wish I knew . . .'

Eaton carefully watches her. 'Did I say something?'

Quinn levels her gaze to meet his brown eyes. They are filled with despair. She reaches across the table and puts her hands on his. 'Brian, you didn't do anything wrong.' She offers him a reassuring smile.

To her surprise Mr. Eaton doesn't remove his hands; instead he flips them over and takes her slender ones in his. 'Thank you,' he says quietly. 'But it still feels as if so . . .' Then he sighs. 'You, Quinn, are a very good person. A beautiful person. Don't ever let anyone take that away from you.'

She is surprised by his sudden praise, but still it causes her to smile and blush a little. Sometime later she will come to regret this moment as one of the biggest slip-ups in her life, but right about now—sitting here at this table with a cup of hot chocolate—looking straight into the captivating eyes of Brian Eaton feels totally right.

* * *

She isn't sure it is the right thing to do. Maybe she is just overreacting. _Perhaps I made the whole thing look a lot worse than it really was._ She picks up her phone again and clicks the icons until she reaches the photo album. She browses through the pictures and soon finds the one she is looking for. Enhancing it, she feels her insides start to heat up again. It's really pissing her off. Seeing Quinn act like this. _She is being so irresponsible_, she finds herself thinking. That is the moment she makes up her mind. Maybe she is making one of the biggest mistakes in her life. Maybe she isn't. But she cannot just leave this.

She exits the photo album and enters her contact list. The list isn't very long, but it has all the names she needs: her friends' and her family's names. Quinn's name is the only one under Q. Obviously Q isn't the most common letter to begin your first name with . . .

She drags a deep breath as she hears the first signal at the other end. About a thousand times she regrets her decision and considers hanging up. Two signals. Perhaps she should just hang up and forget about the whole thing? Three signals. But before she has the time to, someone picks the other end up.

'Hello?' a fair, slightly nasal voice says. Mercedes doesn't have to think about it to recognize whose voice it is.

'Quinn,' she says, almost hoping that she had heard wrong and that the voice at the other end will start to explain to her that she must have dialed the wrong number.

But it doesn't. Instead there is a short silence, before the girl at the other end speaks. When she finally does, it isn't much that she has to say. 'Yes,' she says flatly.

'I think we need to talk,' Mercedes says and hopes that the blonde will be reasonable. She can hear Quinn sigh at the other end of the line.

'About what?' Her tone is vacuous, almost indifferent. Like if she doesn't care.

Mercedes squeezes her eyes shut. 'I think you know,' she says quietly.

Once again the line goes quiet. Mercedes isn't even sure that Quinn is still there, until the girl sighs again and says, 'I don't want to talk right now.'

'But we need to,' Mercedes insist.

'No,' Quinn mumbles and Mercedes cannot help but to hear how tired the girl sounds.

'Quinn!' Mercedes calls. 'Don't you _dare_ hang up on me! We _need_ to talk about this.'

'We don't need to talk about nothing,' the blonde says in an almost incoherent voice.

Mercedes shakes her head violently, even though she knows Quinn can't see her. 'But we do!' She takes a quick, deep breath. 'I noticed the way your eyes changed when Brittany asked you that question. I know that you still care.'

'No, no—'

'Be quiet!' Mercedes orders. 'I know how you feel, 'cause I feel it too! But that doesn't give you any rights to be angry with me!' Mercedes doesn't know when, but sometime during their conversation her tone had gone from calm but serious to angry, uncontrolled and upset. She is basically screaming at the blonde girl at the other end of the line.

'I, I—' Quinn tries to interject.

'I know you, Quinn Fabray. Don't forget what I did for you!' she brawls. Her feelings are taking control over her. 'Everybody does nothing but to treat you like a queen and you never even give them—that includes me—a simple "thank you"! You walk around like you own everyone. Never cares about anyone but yourself.' Mercedes inhales quickly. 'You don't see what you do to people? You hurt them!'

'What are you talking about?' Quinn manages to press in.

'You are gonna get both yourself and him in deep trouble,' the African American girl mutters. 'And I hope you're prepared to take the consequences, because this time there won't be anyone to take your side. We're sick and tired of cleaning up your mess.'

'You have no right to say those mean things!' Quinn bursts and Mercedes can tell that the girl is close to crying.

'You dug this hole all on your own,' she says before she hangs up, leaving a tearful Quinn staring into the air wondering what the hell just happened.

* * *

Author's note

The eight chapter deals a little bit with, mainly, Mercedes' feelings about what happened at Kurt's party on Friday night, but also her feelings and thoughts in general concerning Sam. You also get a little look at what goes on inside Sam's head.

I really hope you like this chapter and if you do please leave a comment! :)


	9. Rumors are Spreading Like Wildfire

Not Making the Same Mistake Again

Summary: Less than four months remain of the school year, for some students it's the last four months at William McKinley High. Therefore it's natural for the kids to want to make the best of the remaining time. However, a lot of things can go wrong in sixteen weeks . . .

Rated Teen for language primarily. There may be some spoilers for the two first seasons of the show as well as the third up until somewhere short after the episode _Hold on to Sixteen_.

I hope you will enjoy reading this multi-character fanfiction as much as I have enjoyed writing it!

I apologize in advance for any incorrect grammar or typo that may occur.

Reviews are very welcome.

Disclaimer: I do_not_ own _Glee_ nor do I own any of its characters. The same goes for anything involving the music mentioned.

End of author's note. Now on to the story!

* * *

_Chapter 9 – Rumors are spreading like wildfire_

[MONDAY]

Walking with determined steps through the cafeteria, the black haired girl frantically chews her gum. Wild berries as always. Her aim is set on the far east corner of the room, at the table just beside the windows. Around the table sits four pupils, three girls, one boy. 'Mercedes. Hello!' one of the girls calls as she notices the black girl coming up to them.

'Tina,' Mercedes says curtly and then turns her focus to the only boy, on whom her eyes had been plastered since she entered the cafeteria. 'I need to talk to you.'

The brown haired boy frowns, 'Moi?' and point at himself. The look on Mercedes face says it all. There's no room for argument. Kurt glances at the girls around the table, mentally excusing himself for having to leave them.

Mercedes starts walking away from the table. Her pace is quite fast and the slender boy has to jog to catch up with her. 'Tell me, Mercedes, what is going on?' he says.

She refuses to look at him. Her eyes set on the exit a few feet away. 'This time she's really screwed up,' she mutters through gritted teeth.

The boy sighs. 'What now 'Cedes?' Obviously he's not very impressed of her drama queen behavior, perhaps because he is usually the one pulling that act.

'I saw them . . . all over each other . . .'

'First and foremost: who did you see? Secondly: slow down, I'm wearing my Ralph Lauren cashmere shawl ranch coat here and I would hate to get sweaty in it. You know how expensive dry-cleaning is in this town.' Mercedes slows down and cast a sharp look at her companion.

_How could clothes mean so much to him? Got it he's gay, but still . . . This is a lot more important that a damn coat! _

'Quinn!' she mutters and you can almost see the fume belch out of her ears and the fire in her dark eyes. 'And the English teacher!'

'Pardon me?' the boy blinks confused.

'You heard it Kurt! Quinn and Mr. Eaton. They totally have something going on!' she blurts.

Upon seeing the looks of two girls passing them—drama club girls, Kurt believes—he hooks his arm with Mercedes' and pulls her further out into the yard. 'What are you talking about, Mercedes?' he asks offended on Quinn's behalf as they stop under a maple tree.

The diva bows her head, decreasing the distance between her face and the one of the slender boy. 'Quinn and Mr. Eaton. I saw them, at the Lima Bean. Holding hands!'

As much as Kurt wants to believe that what his friend is telling him right now is nothing but bullshit, he cannot help but to wonder what the hell Quinn is doing. He knows what she wants, what she needs, and this is not a very good path to go down if she plans on ever getting back what was taken from her. 'Are you sure you are not overreacting Mercedes?' he tries, hoping that, for once, the diva is wrong.

She violently shakes her head. 'I saw what I saw! I'm tellin' ya!' she says. 'Look!' She hands him her iPhone. A photo taken from outside the Lime Bean shows Quinn and their English teacher sitting at a table by the window, their eyes locked, their hands united, fingers twined together.

_Oh God Quinny, sweetheart, what were you thinking?_ Kurt stares at the blonde's smiling face and then at his teachers warm eyes. He sighs and shakes his head, giving the phone back to its owner. 'I don't want to believe it.'

'You can't close your eyes on this one.' She puts the phone back into her pocket.

Kurt closes his eyes for a short moment, dragging a deep breath. 'We cannot let this get out, Mercedes.'

She gazes at him. She is pissed and in one way she wants this to get out. She wants Quinn to know that she won't be able to get away with everything all the time. She wants Quinn to hurt, simply because she deserves it. Having treated people the way she had with Sam, Finn, Puck—well maybe Puck deserved being shut out, like that, after all he was the one who knocked her up, while she was drunk on wine coolers—Rachel and Artie, she has honestly done enough damage to deserve a shot of adversity. But as much as Mercedes wants to be able to hate Quinn, and feel like she deserves to get this spread out at the school, she cannot bring herself to it. Quinn used to be one of her best friends, and Mercedes knows better than anyone, what shit that poor blonde girl has gone through. A teenage pregnancy alone is thought to deal with, imagine being kicked out by your parents, abandoned by your boyfriend and ostracized from the Cheerios. Honestly, she doesn't need to go through this too, Mercedes emphasizes. _The girl might be a stuc- up bitch sometimes, but she's our stuck-up, messed up, bitch. _

'You're right,' she mumbles to Kurt, her voice a more controlled one now than it was a few moments ago.

The boy nods and pats her on the shoulder as he walks past her back into the cafeteria. Before re-entering he nods a curt "hello" to Becky Jackson as he almost collides with her.

* * *

_Dear Journal,_

_One wise woman once said "I'm tough, ambitious, and I know exactly what I want. If that makes me a bitch, okay." That is the motto I have tried to live after ever since she released the album Like a Virgin in 1984. Proudly I can note that I, the magnificent Sue Sylvester, have truly accomplished to live thereafter. That is why I am thanking my kindred spirit Madonna for my success and happiness. That is also the main reason to why I have decided to name this operation, to bring Glee Club down once and for all, "Causing a Commotion Sue Sylvester style"._

_Apart from Madonna I have not made the mistake of marrying porcelain skinned curly haired men that will end up dragging my name in the gutter. Though as destiny seems to want us to walk down similar paths in life, it has granted me, or rather punished me with a curly haired hazard with a strong need to perform awfully bad rap songs. _

_So does this mean that, for me to become an immortal icon like my soul mate and paragon Madonna, I have to break and get rid of Will Schuester? If that is what it will take, then watch out William, because Sue Sylvester doesn't show mercy._

Sue picks up the golden cup that stands on her desk and takes a sip of the hot, black coffee._ Delicious. God bless the fantastic person who decided that the coach of the Cheerios will have to have her own coffee and espresso machine. _Sue leans back into her chair. _Oh, that's right . . . that wonderful person is me. _

There is a knock on the door. Judging by the sound of it, the hand performing the gesture belongs to Becky Johnson. She has, Sue has noted, a unique way to knock on the door. It is hesitant, yet it is determined and firm and honestly Sue cannot quite put a finger on what it is. 'Step in, Becky,' Sue directs and closes her journal and puts it into the safe drawer.

'Hi, coach,' Becky greats as she steps inside. She is dressed, as usual, in her Cheerios uniform.

Sue clasps her hands and places them on top of her knee. 'So, Becky, what do my favorite Cheerio have for me today?' Becky fishes her cell phone up from her back pack and puts in on the desk in front of Sue. The tall, blonde cheerleading coach leans forward and examines the photograph that is propped up on the small display. Though the screen is no bigger than a few inches the little what is seen in the picture says enough. 'Close the door, Becky,' Sue orders.

'Yes, coach,' Becky's answer comes and she pads to the door and shuts it.

'Where did you get this?' Sue asks with a firm voice.

'I took it from one of the girls in Glee Club,' the short cheerleader informs in a proud tone. She had happened to be out in the school yard, on her way to the gym, when she suddenly had heard two people loudly discussing by the big maple tree, the same three where Becky had seen Finn for the first time; the boy she had had a crush on for a few weeks before she decided that he wasn't worthy of her love. The short blonde had discreetly walked closer to the two arguing persons and what she had heard had immediately crossed her as something that her coach would love to hear. So therefore she had paid one of McKinley High's many truancers a couple of dollars to purloin Mercedes Jones' iPhone and transfer the photo to Becky's own phone, before returning the iPhone to Mercedes' locker.

Sue studies the tiny picture a little more. 'Has anybody seen this?' she asks and holds up the phone.' Becky shakes her head. She hasn't showed it to anyone except Sue. Sue can see that her young assistant is no longer sure weather what she has brought is pleasing or irritating her coach. She knows that Becky is aware of her feelings towards her former head Cheerio Quinn Fabray. Therefore Sue smiles and says, 'This, Becky, is perfect.' The blonde girl beams with happiness. 'From whom did you get it?' Sue asks.

'Mercedes Jones' phone,' Becky says proudly.

The Cheerios coach smile widens. _This is more than perfect_. 'Becky, let's put Causing a Commotion in work. Mission: destroying Glee Club,' Sue says and grins.

* * *

He is so busy stacking books into his locker that he doesn't even notice her approaching. The girl is walking with quick and determined steps, her eyes firmly set on him. Her wavy brown hair is wagging from side to side as she marches down the hallway. A few people stop and stare as she walks pass them, mostly because she is so damn short and she has this certain bounce to her steps that makes it look like she is always in a hurry or pissed off at someone. She isn't mad with anyone right now, though. Not even irritated.

As she reaches the boy and the lockers she pulls to a quick halt. Straightens out the wrinkles in her checkered skirt and clears her throat. 'I need you to be completely honest with me, Kurt,' Rachel says as the slender boy closes his locker. 'Do you truly believe that we have a chance at getting into NYADA?' There is a sad undertone to the divas otherwise so charmingly merry voice, the girl who _never_ second guesses herself.

Kurt thinks about it for a moment. There are a lot of talented singers and actors out there, he knows. He has met several of them. But just because they are really good performers it doesn't have to mean that they are applying for NYADA. Even though it might be hard for Rachel to understand, and frankly, he is having a pretty hard time getting it into his head too, not everybody wants to become famous. Not everybody who can sing and act wants to be on Broadway.

'I hope so,' Kurt answers after a while. 'There are a lot of very gifted people applying, but don't forget, Rachel my dear, that we are two of those very talented people.' He smiles and hauls the strap on his bag up on his shoulder. 'But to answer your question, Mademoiselle, I do think we have a pretty decent chance at getting in, I do believe so.' He offers her another one of his sweet smiles.

They walk a few yards in complete silence. They are both having classes that start in ten minutes, in the rooms opposite each other actually. When they passes the astronomy room Kurt decides to ask the question that has been on his mind for some time now. Ever since Rachel walked up to him, by his locker, and asked about NYADA and their chances at getting accepted. He clears his throat as quietly as he possible can before he asks, 'What made you ask, Rachel?' He glances at the short brunette. 'You are always the one who never doubts your own capabilities.'

Rachel smiles wryly. 'Something someone said to me a while ago made me reconsider my attitude.'

The slender boy furrows his eyebrows in a skeptical frown. 'That doesn't sound like the Rachel I first met, the one that would kill for a solo in _Glee Club _and the one that would always put golden stars behind her name because she knew _that_ was what she would become one day; a star.'

The comment causes the petite girl to chuckle. Her friend is correct; two years ago she would have never doubted her strengths. And it is true that she was the one who always plastered tiny golden stars beside her name because that was what she wanted to become and it was also what she knew she would become. Back then she never questioned herself or the fact that she would one day become a famous Broadway star. Never once. But as time went by she got to learn, sometimes the hard way, that you cannot take everything for granted and that not everything will work out the way you have planned. She had for example honestly believed that the New Directions would win both Sectionals and Regionals the first year they participated; she had never thought that Finn could be hers, he was after all dating the most beautiful and popular girl at school when they met; she never thought Kurt's father would almost die from a heart attack and she defiantly never believed—though she had always hoped for it—that she would reunite with her biological mother and let alone that the woman would be the coach of Vocal Adrenaline and she could never have predicted that she would date Noah Puckerman, the residential bad boy, and Jessie St. James, the big star of Vocal Adrenaline.

But Rachel decides to not tell Kurt any of this. Instead she asks, 'Do you really think Finn would come with me? She then quickly adds, 'When I get in.'

Kurt thoughtfully chews on his bottom lip for a while. 'He loves you, he truly does. But you need to understand, Rachel, that he has a life of his own.' He glances at the girl. 'He has got dreams too, you know.'

'But they gave the scholarship to Shane . . .' the short diva points out.

'Yes, that is true, they did. But football isn't all that matters.'

Rachel arcs a skeptic brow. 'Sometimes it certainly seems like it.'

Kurt snickers. 'I know, I know.' And he hooks arms with the girl's. 'Let me give you an advice, though; wait till you have been accepted to bother thinking about how Finn will or will not do, okay?'

Rachel drops her gaze to the ground. 'Yeah,' she whispers. 'I promise.'

* * *

Despite what most people might think she is _not _stupid. Never has been. But due to her looks; her face, her height, people tend to think she is. Sadly. She has never been accepted, not the way other kids get accepted. Everyone has always looked at her as special, and not like super talented special, but as _different special_. Sometimes it is good, but mostly it makes her feel a bit alone, like an outsider. Or at least it used to be like that. It still is, but not as much as before. As crazy as it sounds she has Coach Sue Sylvester—yes, that's right—to thank for that. She gave her a spot on the squad. The cheerleading squad, nevertheless! Though, she might not be the pretty Cheerio at the top of the pyramid, she is a part of something. She finally belongs somewhere. There are downsides though, to being Sue Sylvester's personal darling favorite. People tend to back away from you, knowing that whatever you find out will go straight to the source of all evil: Sue Sylvester. And what Sue can do with that information – it can be disastrous!

But nonetheless, being Sue Sylvester's favorite is still the best thing to have ever happen to her. She has found a friend—a friend that is a lot older and sometimes gets a little too obsessed with destroying Glee Club—that accepts her for who she is. Probably it has to do with Sue's sister, Jane. Jane and Becky, well, they remind a lot of each other. Not just on the outside, but on the inside too. They are—Jane was—very sweet, kindhearted persons. Unfortunately Jane isn't longer among the living. And that, well it might be an even greater reason to why Sue Sylvester is so keen of keeping Becky by her side. She reminds her so much of her sister.

In short you can say that these two human beings need each other. They depend on each other—never expected to hear that word to describe Sue Sylvester, did you?—and they trust each other.

That is the reason she is doing this. Humiliating, hurting, and exposing another person like this. An order from Sue Sylvester. Just another attempt of hers to bring Glee Club down, once and for all. To be honest Becky has to admit that this method might be the meanest and most coldhearted so far.

She sighs loudly as she hits the send bottom on her brand new iPhone. _Done. No turning back. _She got the phone from Sue. The Cheerios coach even helped her get a hidden number. Everything to make destroying Glee Club easier.

* * *

It's halfway through Spanish class, his second class for the day, but Sam is already having trouble keeping his eyes from drifting close. For the fifth time this half hour he drops his head, from out of his hands, but startles back to consciousness again as he feels his neck jerk forward. 'Dude, you really need to do something about that,' he can hear a voice whisper from behind him. He recognizes the voice as the one of Finn Hudson.

''Bout what?' Sam yawns.

'You sleeping through Spanish class. Mr. Schue will have no choice but to have you fail the course otherwise.' The blonde boy sighs. _Right, I'm dyslectic. Think my shot at getting a scholarship for my good grades are pretty screwed already as it is._ _But thanks for pointing that out, Frankenteen. _'And if you get too many F's, coach Beast will never let you back on the team,' the taller boy continues.

'Yeah, but what if I—' Mr. Schuester clears his throat. 'What if I don't wan—'

Mr. Schue clears his throat again. This time he is staring directly at Sam and Finn. 'Finn, Sam, do you have anything you want to share with the rest of the class?' His arms are crossed across his chest. Usually Mr. Schue isn't the one to confront pupils like this, but he really hates when they aren't paying attention to him during class. Both boys shake their heads. 'No?' Mr. Schue gazes at the two boys for an additional five seconds. 'Good.' Then he turns to the black board and writes down a sentence in capital letters. Which is not good. Because capital letter always mean it's time for an assignment of some sort. Test, essay, homework.

'Mi futuro, como yo lo veo' Mr. Schue says. 'That will be the title of your essays. Now repeat after me: después de la secundaria tengo la intención de estudiar en el universidad local/fuera de Ohio. Quiero trabajar . . .' Somewhere there Sam loses track of what his teacher is saying and instead he starts to stare out of the window.

Outside some kids are heading across the schoolyard to their cars, apparently some students have already finished their day, probably due to cancelled classes, Sam thinks. _Why can't I have cancelled classes today? _He glances down at his watch, 11.38. _Twenty two minutes left of torture, then lunch._ His stomach purrs at the thought of lunch. The boy next to him glances sideways at him, making a weird face, but he quickly turns his focus back to the black board as Sam mouth 'what?' in a hefty manner. _Man, Puck should have seen that!_ He smiles despite himself and turns his gaze to the window again.

When it's only ten minutes left of the class, Sam feels the vibration of his phone in his pants pocket. He fishes it up and holds it under the table so that Mr. Schue won't see it and maybe confiscate it. It's a text message from Dave Karofsky. The bully turned bullied had transferred back to McKinley in January and was just as Sam trying to get back on the football team. Sam clicks the text open. 'Holy . . . fuck,' he gasps.

'Are you okay, Sam?' Mr. Schue asks, looking directly at the blonde boy.

Sam blinks a couple of times. 'Wh-what?' he stutters.

'Just forget about it.' Schue turns to the rest of the class again. 'So for tomorrow I want to see that you have read the pages thirty three to thirty eight. The essay should by on my desk by next Friday. Vale?' The class mumbles an absentminded 'sí' in unison and starts to gather their books, papers and pencils.

_Holy freaking shit! Quinn's . . . Quinn's having an affair with the English teacher! She's . . . I knew it. I fucking knew it! _Sam closes his hands into tight fists, making the knuckles turn white.

'Hey, dude. What's going on?' Finn says leaning in from behind. Sam passes him the phone, the text still up on the screen. 'What the heck?' the tall boy exclaims, staring shocked at the photo. Then he reads the short text underneath it. 'Fabray's fishing for real piece of meat. Slut,' he mumbles. 'What the hell?' He tosses the phone back to Sam, who stands up, starting to collect his books. 'You believe this crap?' Finn finally asks, as the two boys leave the class room.

Sam snorts. 'I was fucking there!' Then he leaves Finn and with quick steps he heads for the door leading to the yard.

* * *

For the first time in a very long time, the whole cafeteria goes quiet as she walks in. During the beginning of freshmen year that had been a part of her everyday life, and she had enjoyed it. That had all changed though when she joined Glee club—even though it was mainly to keep an eye on her then-boyfriend Finn—and became just another looser, people started to take no notice in her. But when the word got around that she was knocked up—even before people found out whether it was Finn's or Puck's—it happened again. As she walked into the cafeteria that day, everybody had just stopped whatever they were up to and stared at her. Then all the talking behind her back and nasty looks in the halls had started. It had been horrible. Luckily though Quinn Fabray is one hell of a strong girl, and she had lived through it. She had had her baby, named her Beth on Puck's request, given her up for adoption—to Rachel's biological mother but also the former coach of Vocal Adrenaline, Shelby Corcoran—and then she had gotten her life back on track. Regained all that popularity. It had taken a lot of hard work, but damn was it worth it. She had gotten all that respect back, the respect that caused the whole room to go quiet when she entered. Unfortunately another slip had her walking down the road of exclusion again as she became obsessed with getting her daughter back. However being a Skank did make people part whenever you walked in, but it wasn't as much of respect as it was of fear.

Right about now, though, Quinn doesn't believe the students are quiet because of respect for her or fear of her. The quietness is of a different variety. And it doesn't feel good. She walks up to the counter and grabs a tray. They are serving chicken and rice today. While filling her plate she can feel the eyes of about three dozen kids burning on her back. A few of them are whispering, she can tell, but she cannot make out what they are gossiping about.

She turns around and scans the room for her friends. They are all seated at a table at the far back of the cafeteria, Santana, Brittany, Mercedes, Tina, Kurt, Rachel, even Finn and Mike is there. She starts to walk towards them, hearing more whispers and coughs from the other pupils as she passes them. _Was that a muffled jeer? _

'Hey, guys,' she says quietly as she sits down. The others seem kind of hesitant before they say their 'hellos' to her. _What is wrong with everyone today?_

'You look good today,' Kurt says, offering her a sweet smile. But it seems strained.

She glances at him suspiciously. 'Thank you, Kurt.'

'So . . . how was your weekend?' Rachel asks, poking at her half eaten egg roll.

'Pretty slow. Wasn't all bad though.' Finn almost chokes on a cocktail tomato, with Rachel having to pat his back to have him cough the bastard up.

'Are you okay, Finn?' Rachel worriedly queers and stokes the tall boy's cheek. He nods eagerly.

Quinn glances around the room, noticing that there are still a great bunch of kids watching her. 'What's going on, guys?' she asks, starting to get a little worried herself, though not for Finn. He can totally breathe again. The group goes back to their previous hesitation. Quinn turns to Santana. 'San?' Then to Kurt. 'Kurt?'

'Uh . . . I don't know how to put this, Quinn . . .'

But the pretty boy gets no more time to think about his explanation though, because walking up to their table comes the guys from the hockey team. One of them whistles as he lays his eyes on the shortest of the pretty blondes. 'Well, well . . . what do we have here?' the leader of the pack says, turning to glance at his buddies, only to make sure that they are following his lead before he continues. 'Isn't it the school's head _MILF_?' He laughs. 'Quinn Fabray.' The other hockey players laugh as on command.

She is used to being called the school's head bitch in charge but this is something new. Well, almost . . . only Puck calls her a MILF.

'You can't talk to her like that!' Finn orders, his face beginning to redden with anger.

The captain of the hockey team, Rick Nelson, laughs. 'Yeah? Says who? You, Manboobs? The one and only who got completely screwed by this lovely little thing in sophomore year when she claimed you were going to have to play daddy. Ha!' Rick mocks and the pack laughs.

Finn starts to rise, not allowing anyone to talk like that about him or any of his friends, especially not Quinn, but he stops short as he feels Rachel's hand on his arm, gently pulling him back down. He knows his girlfriend is right; picking a fight with half the hockey team right here, right now, in front of everybody is not a very wise thing to do.

The hockey guys smirk, all of them. 'Maybe I'll give you a call, Fabray, next time I have an itch I want scratched . . . or a test I want the answers for . . . maybe you could sleep with the teacher – get me the key. A win-win for everyone.' Rick wiggles his eyebrows in a gesture that no one can misinterpret, not even Brittany. 'See ya!' the jock says and then he and his buddies leave the Glee kids completely in shock.

Quinn is staring right out into space. She doesn't get it. _What the heck was he talking about? Why is everybody staring at her?_ She shakes her head; as if doing so would cause her to wake up from this bad, weird, dream. Because it has got to be a dream right? She feels a hand on her shoulder, looks up and sees Kurt watching her with compassion. 'I'm sorry,' he manages. Shaking her head again, she stands up. She opens her mouth as if there is something she wants to say, but then she changes her mind and storms out of the cafeteria.

Mercedes buries her head in her hands as Quinn disappears out of view. 'I feel like such an idiot!' she exclaims.

'There was nothing you could have done to prevent this,' Rachel tries, unaware of the truth behind the story.

The taller diva shakes her head. 'I should have not taken that damn photo in the first place!'

'That was you?' Santana exclaims upset, suddenly feeling a strong urge to rip the African American girl's head off. 'You took that photo?' Mercedes shrugs, looking completely beat down. She doesn't know what else to say. 'So culera falsa!' Santana growls and leaves the table as well.

Kurt just shakes his head. 'Damn what a mess,' he sighs.

* * *

There is a firm knock on the door. Being only semi-conscious Quinn figures that the disturbing pounding on the hard wood is just delusions made up by her over-tired mind. Besides she isn't expecting any visitors. And her mom isn't home so it cannot be anyone seeking her.

But as the knocking continues even after she has closed her eyes and tried to think about something else, she feel like she has no other choice than to go and open it. She gets up and heads towards the door, dressed in pajama pants and an old white tee. Through the small frosted glass window in the door she can see the contours of a rather slim and not that tall figure. It rules out the lady next door, who sometimes drops by to say hello.

She pulls the door open to find Santana standing on the porch. The Latina is not dressed in her usual cheerleading outfit but in a beige long sleeved shirt and dark blue denims. 'Santana, hey,' Quinn says halfheartedly, not in the mood to hang out with the raven haired girl at the moment.

'Q,' Santana mumbles, 'can I come in?' Usually the cocky girl would have just forced her way pass Quinn, but apparently not today. The blonde shrugs and steps aside, allowing the Latina entrance. 'Sooo?' Santana walks into the living room and sinks into one of the overstuffed couches. 'How are you doing?'

Quinn takes a seat on the other couch. 'Good. Why do you ask?' she says suspiciously. Though in the back of her head, she already knows what the Latina is referring to.

'Just curious, you know,' Santana shrugs, trying to come off as nonchalant.

_She is so lying to me right now; she doesn't do thoughtfulness like this . ._ . 'Really?'

'No,' the answer comes bluntly.

Quinn crosses her arms over her chest. 'That's what I thought.'

'You have very high thoughts about me, don't you?' Santana mumbles and flings her long legs over the armrest of the couch so that they are dangling free in the air about a few inches over the floor.

'There are reasons.'

'Yeah?' Santana queers, trying to sounds surprised and offended.

'Mm-hm.'

'Oh . . .'

_Aw, cut the crap_! 'What do you want?' Quinn tries again, this time more resolute.

Santana sigh softly. 'Honestly. I'm worried about you, Q.'

The blonde raises an eyebrow at the statement. 'What? Why?'

Now it's Santana's turn to arc an eyebrow. 'Perhaps because of what happened today at lunch. Perhaps because of what went on with you right after we got back to school after the summer. You're a wreck, Quinn.' Quinn's eyes drop to the floor, but she says nothing.

Instead of wasting time and letting the situation turn into one of awkward silence Santana pops the question on her mind right away. Like a bomb. _Better get the big elephant out of the room before it becomes too humongous that it uses up all the fresh air,_ the Latina points out to herself. 'Are you sleeping with Mr. Eaton?'

Quinn snaps her head towards her friend. 'No! Absolutely not!' Santana keeps watching her with disbelief in her dark eyes. 'No! I am _not _sleeping with our English teacher! Oh my God, Santana!' The raven haired girl slowly shakes her head. 'Santana!' Quinn pleads.

'What we saw, Quinn, kind of spoke for itself.'

Quinn shakes her head in confusion. 'What do you mean, Santana?'

Santana reaches into her Cheerios jacket and withdraws her iPhone. Entering the inbox for text messages she scrolls down for the right conversation and selects it. She hands the phone to Quinn. 'What the hell were you thinking, Q?' she asks in a tone that almost sounds disappointed.

The conversation, or rather the text, contains a simple photo with a short text attached to it. _Fabray's fishing for real piece of meat. Slut._ Quinn squeezes her eyes shut. _This can't be happening!_

Santana reaches out and takes the iPhone away from her friend, sets it on the coffee table and scoots closer to her. Putting an arm around her friend's shoulder she says, 'If it helps, I actually believes you.' The blonde girl takes one deep, but ragged, breath as she tries to keep herself together. She leans against Santana's shoulder. 'We'll get to them,' Santana insures her, pointing out that she is the schools expert when it comes to pay-backs, but Quinn only shakes her head.

'It won't make it better,' she says in a wary voice.

'You won't know until you try it.'

Quinn sighs. 'I have, so many times, and not once has it made me feel better. Rather the opposite.' The black haired girl gently rubs circles on Quinn's back.

After a moment of silence Quinn speaks up. 'Who sent it?' she asks, breaking loose from Santana to look directly into her eyes. The hesitation is obvious in the Latina's eyes. 'Santana, please.'

She sighs. 'I got it from Brittany.' Upon seeing Quinn's devastated face she quickly ads, 'who got it from one of the girls in her the drama class.' The blonde girl let her sad eyes sweep around the room. _How could you be so stupid?_ And then it hits her. _Sam. Sam saw them._

'Who, who sent the first one?' she asks upset, tears threatening to spill over. She can't believe this is happening. Santana doesn't say anything. 'Who sent it? Was it Sam?' She has gone from upset to angry. 'Tell me! Did he send the text?' She is close to screaming out the last words.

Santana slowly shakes her head. 'No.' She takes a deep breath. 'No, Sam didn't.'

Quinn swallows hard, trying to restrain herself. 'Then who did?' The rage hasn't yet boiled off. 'Say it!'

'I don't—'

'Say it!' Tears are now flooding down the blonde's cheeks, leaving wet silver trails behind.

'Mercedes,' she blurts, but immediately after spilling the name Santana seem to want nothing but to be able to sink right through the ground. She might be bad-ass but she doesn't tattle on others, especially not on people that are supposed to be her friends. Quinn just stares straight ahead. 'I don't think she wrote that stuff though,' Santana tries. She is not very fond of the black diva, but she has honestly had enough of all the cat fights. At least of those she is not involved in.

'It doesn't matter,' the blonde mumbles while wiping her tears away.

'What?' Santana asks shocked, both by the words Quinn just uttered but also by the fact that her friend just went from boiling rage to complete indifference in just a split second.

'It doesn't matter,' Quinn repeats dryly. The raven haired girl blinks confused. 'I'm done with her. She's a nobody.' Santana can hear that even though Quinn seems to have calmed down, whether it's just a façade or not that she has put on; those words are hard to utter. Santana knows that deep down inside Quinn could never hate Mercedes. The black girl was at one point the only person Quinn had left to turn to since being kicked out by her parents. Mercedes had even let Quinn live with her. You don't just forget about such a sweet and generous action. You just don't.

'I'm so sorry, Quinn . . .'

The said girl levels her gaze back onto her friend. 'Thanks.' Her voice is weak, once again.

'Come on, Q, let's get high on Ben & Jerry's and listen to heartbreaking music.' A cheap attempt of Santana's to cheer her friend up.

It causes Quinn to smile though, despite Santana's expectations. 'Yeah. Let's raid the freezer.'

Already halfway through the door to the kitchen Santana stops, turns around and smiles, it's a tricky one. 'Why'd you think it was Froggy Lips?'

'What?' Quinn asks, completely caught off guard by the question. 'Uh . . . I kind of . . . he came and sat with me when Brian was out talking on the phone.' Santana gazes at her suspiciously, as if she didn't quite buy the explanation. 'And then Brian walked back in, while Sam was there. And . . . and then he stormed out.'

'Who? Brian?'

'Sam.'

Santana raises an eyebrow. 'Sometimes I wonder how the hell you can get all those fine grades . . . Perhaps you _do _all of your teachers . . .'

Quinn frowns. 'What?'

'You're so blind, it's almost cute.' The Latina enjoys the confused look on her friends face. As Quinn parts her lips, starting to say something, Santana just rolls her eyes dramatically and continues. 'He's about as over you as you are with him.'

'Wha . . . uh-uh . . . I'm . . . He's—'

'Yeah, exactly.' Santana nods and hands Quinn a spoon and a carton of Ben & Jerry Chocolate Fudge Brownies. Then she grabs one Strawberry Cheesecake for herself. 'Bon appétit!'

* * *

When the news of what went down in the cafeteria this lunch reached him he was already at home, popping a DVD in for his two younger siblings. It was Finn that called him. Honestly he couldn't quite understand why the brunette boy found it so important that Sam would have to know about Quinn's encounter with the boys of the hockey team, but needless to say, he was glad that Finn had called him.

He selects 'play full movie' in the menu and listens as the film begins before he runs up the stairs to his room and gets his phone, his jacket and wallet. Back downstairs again he checks so that the stove or oven is not turned on, all the windows are closed and locked and that the phone is where it should be in case the kids would have to make a call. _Is it like this it feels to have kids on your own? A constant worry that something might happened to them._ He kisses Stacy goodbye and ruffles Stevie's hair. The boy doesn't like when Sam kisses him.

He doesn't like leaving the kids alone like this, even if he knows that his parents will be home in fifteen minutes. Still it doesn't feel right. Reluctantly he heads out through the front door and carefully locks it behind him. Turning back to the house one last time to make sure everything looks fine. No open windows, the door's closed and locked. Then he heads for the closest bus stop. Since the family only owns one car now, and his father took it to work this morning, Sam has to settle for public transport.

It takes him about thirty minutes to get to the football field where Finn has asked them to meet. When he gets there though, it's not Finn that he sees first, but Puck. The ridiculously ripped bad boy is enjoying himself by throwing stones at birds that persist to land in the center of the field. Sam is pretty impressed by the accuracy of the pitches. Probably four of nine stones hit its targets, and considering the distance of which he throws the rocks and the fact that he is aiming at living, moving, targets, that is pretty damn good.

'Hey, man!' the boy in the Mohawk mumbles as Sam enters the field.

'Hey,' Sam mumbles back. 'What are you doing here?'

'What does it look like, stupid.'

Sam ignores the cheeky answer. 'Have you spoken to Finn?'

Puck stops throwing stones at the birds and leans back on the grandstand. 'No, why would I?'

'Maybe because he's your best friend,' Sam points out, sitting down besides Puck.

'So? We're not _girls_.'

'He told me to go here.' Sam picks up a stone of his own, throwing it across the field, aiming at nothing in particular.

'You suck!' Puck points out.

Confused the blonde boy asks, 'What?'

'If you aimed at that bird, you freaking suck, man.'

Sam chuckles. 'I didn't aim at the bird.'

'Why'd he tell you to go here?' Puck jumps back to the previous topic of conversation.

'I . . . Honestly, I don't know,' Sam says and throws another rock.

'You're dating now?' Puck offers, a sick smile on his face.

Sam laughs. 'Ugh! Hell no!'

Sighing loudly the boy with the Mohawk leans back on the grandstand again. He starts picking at a rip in his baggy Levi's. 'You've heard, right?' A thread breaks and he starts picking at the next. 'About Quinn?'

_I was there for goodness sake! Stop reminding me._ Sam nods. 'Yeah, I have.'

'It's not her, you know.' The voice of the otherwise so tough receiver is rather low and filled with compassion. Sam has known since the first time he met Puck that the boy still had some feelings left for the beautiful ex-cheerleader, though it is not until now that he realizes how deep those emotions really are. Dare he say it, or even think it? _Is Noah Puckerman still in love with Quinn Fabray?_

'I know.'

'Who sent it to you?' Puck asks, still picking at the loose thread in his pants. It too is going to break at any moment.

Sam sighs. 'Karofsky. Who sent it to you?'

'Mike.' The blonde boy nods slowly. He doesn't know what to say next. 'I kinda feel like I have to do something . . .' Puck suddenly says. Sam arcs a confused eyebrow. _What would that something be? Beat up the moron who got the photo circling or persuading Quinn into some encouragement-sex?_

'Hey, Sam, sorry I'm late!' the two boys suddenly hear Finn call from behind them. 'Hi, Puck!' the quarterback adds when he notices the boy with the Mohawk.

'Hey,' Sam says.

'Finn,' Puck simply greets him.

'You look true gritted,' Finn points out and toss the football that he has brought to Puck. None of the boys says anything. 'I thought we could practice some pitching and receiving.' Finn gestures by pretending to throw away a ball. 'Football season is soon kicking off, you know.'

Sam and Puck glance at each other. 'You've heard, right?' Puck queers as he tosses the football back to Finn.

Finn knits his eyebrows together. 'Heard what?'

_Seriously, can someone be more stupid? '_About Quinn, you moron.'

'Oh . . . yeah, I've heard.' Puck arcs an eyebrow as if asking "And?". Sam is shifting his glance between Finn and Puck. 'I feel sorry for her, but honestly, there's not much I can do. She kind of put herself in this situation.' He throws the ball to Sam who catches it easily.

Puck snorts and shakes his head. 'What?' Finn asks irritated.

Puck walks closer to Finn. 'Don't you care? Huh? Don't you feel—'

'Hey, guys!' Sam bellows and steps in between the two football players. 'Cool it off! Both of you!' Puck shots an angry eye at Finn, who mutters something incoherent while shaking his head. Sam places the ball in Finn's hands. 'I thought you had more dignity than this, man,' he mumbles as he leaves the field. Puck and Finn both stand fixed, watching the blonde head up the grandstand.

Puck shoots Finn another angry look. 'You're so careless, dude.' Then he leaves too.

Finn is left behind, standing alone on the field with the football in his hand. He blinks in confusion a couple of times. _What did he do wrong? He just wanted to practice some football. Get his mind off of all the drama in school. Why did they have to overreact like that?_

* * *

Author's note

To begin with I'd like to thank you for reading this and I want to send a special thanks to those who review my story. Your comments mean a lot to me! :)

I would also like to apologize if I had you confused with the ending of the last chapter. I hope this chapter answers some of the questions that the last chapter might have raised ;)


	10. All we need is someone to talk to

Not Making the Same Mistake Again

Summary: Less than four months remain of the school year, for some students it's the last four months at William McKinley High. Therefore it's natural for the kids to want to make the best of the remaining time. However, a lot of things can go wrong in sixteen weeks . . .

Rated Teen for language primarily. There may be some spoilers for the two first seasons of the show as well as the third up until somewhere short after the episode _Hold on to Sixteen_.

I hope you will enjoy reading this multi-character fanfiction as much as I have enjoyed writing it!

I apologize in advance for any incorrect grammar or typo that may occur.

Reviews are very welcome.

Disclaimer: I do _not_ own _Glee_ nor do I own any of its characters. The same goes for anything involving the music mentioned.

End of author's note. Now on to the story!

* * *

_Chapter 10 – Sometimes all we need is someone to talk to_

[TUESDAY]

He swiveled into the choir room in the last minute before the clock turned three. He is usually not one to run late, especially not for Glee Club, but he got kind of hold back after gym class. For some reason the coach of the Cheerios, and also his gym teacher, Sue Sylvester, had intercepted him outside the boys' locker room, when he was heading for Glee Club.

'_Porcelain,' she says, leaning lazily and yet respectable against the maroon brick wall. She is holding a clipboard pressed between her chest and the arms that she has crossed over it. He jumps slightly by the unexpected uttering of one of his many nicknames. It is one that he doesn't like, but it is still far from the worst he has been called. Yet this one always makes him feel particularly uncomfortable. The reason, he has noted, is probably not the name itself but the parallel he draws from the name; only one person calls him 'Porcelain' and that one person is the same that once tried to shoot Brittany out of a canon. 'Grown mute?' she mocks and straightens her posture. She is a tall woman, about a few inches taller than him. 'Either way it doesn't matter, as long as you still have the capacity to understand.'_

'_I am not an idiot, coach Sylvester!' he speaks up and lifts his chin._

_She arcs her eyebrows and wrinkles her forehead, but the expression is highly temporary, the very next second her face goes back to the fierce yet nonchalant look that she always sports. 'I liked you better as silent,' her remark comes. 'No, I am so sorry, let me correct myself, Porcelain, I _disliked youless_ as silent.'_

'_Where do you plan on getting with your childish insults, coach Sylvester? Kurt queers disinterested. He has been through this before. Now he just wants her to get to the point._

'_That attitude is going to get you into _deep_ trouble one day, young lady,' the Cheerios coach says. 'So take my advice and leave it at home next time. But I am not here to give you advice on how to behave in public. I am here though to give you a different kind of advice.' _

'_And that piece of advice would be what, coach Sylvester?' Kurt snorts._

_Sue steps closer to the slender boy, like a vulture she is hovering over him as if he was a decaying cadaver. 'If you want your miserable little club of misfits to proceed existing, I suggest you avoid all contact with inappropriate behavior like this, and the people committing the act.' She grabs Kurt's hand and jams a printed out photo into it. 'If not, I am afraid I will have no other choice than to report this act of indecorum to principle Figgins. And as you might have heard, the school is showing no mercy when it comes to romantic relationships between students and teachers.' She crooks her neck so that her face closes in on Kurt's. 'If you care about Ms. Fabray's continued affiliation at this school, I suggest that you and your pathetic little club take distance from her.' She smiles devilishly as she steps away from him. 'Have a good continuation of the day, Porcelain.' Then she turns around and walks down the hall, leaving a shocked Kurt behind._

With his rather odd conversation with Sue Sylvester playing in the back of his head, he takes a seat at the back row. Just as he usually does. It gives him great view of the room and it makes him feel somewhat more in control of everything that happens before him.

The hour in the choir room passes by faster than usual. And as Mr. Schue declares the lesson officially over, Kurt isn't sure whether his teacher is joking or not, saying that the class is ending though it is in reality just about to begin. Kurt cannot remember a single thing from the hour, no performances, no fights between Santana and Rachel, no dance numbers . . . nothing. All that fills his head is confused thoughts that are swiveling around at the speed of sound. He did notice one thing though during the class: Quinn wasn't there. Truth be told he hasn't seen her since yesterday when she stormed out of the cafeteria. Not that he blames her for not coming today. He wouldn't have. But it isn't like her. She doesn't let anything get to her.

He doesn't get much more time to thing though, before someone nudge him in the side and asks him if he isn't going to leave the room. 'School's out for today, dude,' the person says. Kurt recognizes the deep yet smooth voice as Sam Evans'.

'Yes, right. I just got lost in thought,' Kurt replies quickly and gathers his things; his bag and his scarf.

The blonde boy nods. 'Yeah, happens to all of us sometimes,' he mumbles quietly, but instead of leaving he stays and waits for Kurt.

'Thought you had football practice today?' the slender boy asks in lack of other things to talk about and closes the door to the choir room as they exit.

'We had, but coach Beiste decided to call it off,' shrugs Sam and hauls the strap of his duffel bag up on his shoulder, but it keeps sliding down.

Kurt nods. 'So you still have a chance at getting back on the team . . .' It isn't really a question but more like something to fill the uncomfortable silence that would otherwise occur.

'Hopefully,' Sam mumbles. 'But I don't know, man. I guess we'll have to wait and see.' The brown haired boy nods.

'Kurt,' Sam says after a while and the other boy nods. The blonde opens his mouth but closes it again.

'Sam?' Kurt queers, knowing that sometimes the blonde needs a little help to get whatever he wants to say out in the air.

'Have you talked to her?' he blurts out. 'Quinn.' A light shade of crimson sneaks up on his cheeks.

The brown haired boy slowly shakes his head. 'No, I haven't.'

'It isn't like her, you know. None of this,' Sam sighs and stares at nothing in particular.

'I know,' Kurt says.

Sam nods, but Kurt isn't sure at what, and then the blonde boy excuses himself by saying, 'I've got a meeting with my science teacher, apparently I'm failing that class too,' he sighs. 'So . . . gotta go. Take care, Kurt.' But Sam doesn't get far before he turns back around and calls out for Kurt. 'If you . . . I mean . . . see her, tell her I'm not, I'm not angry with her. Okay?' Kurt nods and Sam does the same before he remembers he has a meeting he has to run to.

He makes a stop at his locker to pick up some books he needs to bring home for his history homework, before he heads out to the parking lot. Finn has promised him a ride home after football practice, but since it got cancelled Kurt is hoping that the tall brunette will be waiting for him by his car to drive him home now instead. Unfortunately Finn most have forgotten, because his car isn't even in the parking lot. Kurt silently damns his step-brother for forgetting before he starts to walk towards home.

As he passes the football field where the Cheerios are now practicing he comes to think of Quinn again. He picks up his cell phone and dials her number, but gets no answer. So he sends her a text instead, asking her to meet him at the Lima Bean later this afternoon. The reason he states is that he needs her advice, though he is just as interested in seeing how she is doing.

* * *

He is on his way home when he sees two familiar faces through the picture window at Burger King. Having nothing better to do, he decides to steer his walk into the fast food restaurant. As he eases towards the two familiar figures he fetches a tooth pick from an abandoned table and places it in the corner of his mouth. 'Oh, well, what do we have here?' the boy says and grins, the tooth pick sticking out between his lips. 'Isn't it Lopez and Pierce.' He easily slides into the booth, besides Brittany. 'Didn't know you were allowed to eat junk food by coach Sylvester,' he mumbles and steels a French fry from Santana's plate.

'Get lost, Puckerman,' the Latina mutters and fetches the fry right before the boy is about to pop it into his mouth.

'Hey, come on, Santana!' Puck exclaims in an obviously faked offended voice and throws out his arms. 'Be cool. I'm having a real shitty day here!'

The raven haired girl arcs an eyebrow. 'Yeah? Since when did you ever have a _good _day in Lima?'

The boy rolls his eyes theatrically. 'Okay, okay,' he mumbles. 'You got a point. But this day, man, it's really bad.'

'What happened?' Brittany queers and chews on the straw to her Coca Cola.

Puck scoffs. 'First I got my geography test back. I Failed. Again.' He shakes his head as if he cannot understand how the heck the teacher could put an F on his test when he only got one of his nine answers wrong. He did at least _try_ to answer ten percent of the questions. 'Then at football practice I practically got run over by Mercedes' ol' flame.' Puck says as he narrows his eyes and purses his lips in a sour grimace.

'Sam?' the blonde asks surprised. The Sam she knows isn't really the one to physically hurt people on intention.

Puckerman rolls his eyes. 'No, not Evans. Come on, you think I'll get mangled by him?' He stares at the blonde Cheerio. 'He's my buddy.'

Santana grins and arcs a brow. 'I totally knew you two had a thing!' she says.

'Are you dating _Sam_?' Brittany asks wide-eyed. She cannot believe she had missed that, though she has had a feeling about it.

Puck shakes his head furiously. 'No, no, no.' He chuckles a little nervously. 'I'm not dating Lady Lips, Brittany. I'm not gay!' He skips his gaze between the two girls. 'Okay?' Brittany frowns, but decides not to say anything. _It is all just so confusing . . ._

Santana smirks. 'Whatever, Puckerman.' She dips a French fry in ketchup and shoves it into her mouth. 'Whatever you say . . .'

The boy with the Mohawk sends her an annoyed look. 'Anyways,' he says, 'the dude who basically stomped me down was Shane. And I tell you, getting hit by that man is like getting run over by a freaking train.' Puck gazes at Santana. 'It hurts.'

'So you broke a nail and now you're bitching to us about it. Grow up!' Santana sighs and squints out the window, a bored expression on her face.

Puck snorts. 'You're so damn witty, Santana. You know that? A real stand-up comedian.' He pulls his arms behind his back and pops the muscles there.

'Oh, come on! Do you need to do that here?' Brittany cries. 'It's creepy!'

The boy shrugs and leans back against the wooden booth. 'I topped the day off with being caught pilfering booze from a client's bar compartment. But come on! I work all weekends cleaning people's pools and sometimes I get a little thirsty.'

'Did they fire you?' the Latina asks and takes a long sip of her cold Diet Coke. The ice cubes rattle as she stirs the dark brown liquid with her white and red striped straw.

Puck shakes his head slowly. 'Naw, they didn't, but they refused to pay for the work I did.'

'It's pretty cool though, that they didn't fire you,' Brittany speculates and twirls a strand of blonde hair around her finger.

Puck shrugs and glances at Santana. The Latina holds his stare until he breaks it a few seconds later. She can tell by the look in his hazel orbs that he has something he wants to say. Their relationship might not have involved very much talking, but that doesn't necessarily mean that she isn't capable of telling when something is nagging at him. She keeps her dark brown eyes on him for a furthermore moments before she averts them to Brittany. The blonde is currently busy drowning a French fry in salt and ketchup. 'So . . .' Santana says after a while, 'did you come here just to whine or do you actually have something not completely worthless to say?'

Puck chews on the tooth pick for a while before he answers. 'Nah, just though I'd kill some time.'

'Don't you have an Xbox for that?' the Latina queers and lifts the juicy burger to her mouth. She takes a big bite of it, dressing being squeezed out from between the hamburger and the bread.

Puck snickers. 'Yeah, I do, but what if I just wanted some company, huh?'

'Your left hand?' Santana offers nonchalantly. 'It's kept you company since you entered puberty.'

'Ha-ha,' Puck mutters. 'And for the record; I don't need to do that stuff myself. I've got plenty of fine girls lining up to do it for me, if you know what I mean.'

'Like who? You're mom?'

'Don't drag my mom into this!' Puck mumbles.

The Latina laughs. 'I think I hit a nerve, or what do you think, Britt-Britt?' The blonde nods and then she quickly returns her attention to her French fries.

'You're evil, you know that?' Puck points out and Santana just shrugs.

'So they say,' the raven haired girl replies.

The boy shakes his head. 'I know you're actually not like that.' He leans forward. 'You don't have to be so damn bitchy all the time.' Dumbfounded Santana drops her gaze to the tray and the half eaten burger.

'She's only bitchy because she's angry,' Brittany explains. 'And she is angry because she has all these feelings to deal with, and the consequences, you know.' Puck just stares at her.

'You didn't . . . Britt, you didn't need to say that,' Santana mumbles quietly.

Brittany sticks out her bottom lip and squints at the Latina. 'Sorry,' she whispers.

Puck whistles quietly. 'Think you have a lot to talk about,' he notes and pulls out the tooth pick he has been sucking on for a while, and places it on the edge of Brittany's tray.

Santana looks up at him. 'I think you should leave,' she says bluntly.

The boy shakes his head. 'Nah, I already know. Kinda obvious.' He nods. They grow quiet for a while. As Santana finishes the last of her Diet Coke, Puck clears his throat and gazes at the Latina. 'Can I ask you something?'

She looks up into his hazel eyes. 'What?' she replies.

The boy skips his gaze from side to side, as if afraid that someone else might hear what he has to ask. Then he says, 'Do you think I'm a Lima Loser?' It causes Santana to chuckle and Brittany to giggle. None of them had ever expected to hear that come from the mouth of Noah Puckerman. Not ever.

'You know I think you're a loser,' Santana mocks.

'I'm serious,' Puck mumbles.

Santana is quiet for a moment then she says, 'Honestly, Puck. No, I don't think you're a loser. Next to Guppy Face you're the coolest guy McKinley's got.'

'You think?' Puck smirks.

The girl nods slowly. Then she asks, 'Is that why you came here?' She stares at him.

The boy with the Mohawk frowns. 'What do you mean?'

The Latina rolls her eyes annoyed. _God, is he really this stupid?_ 'To ask that,' she says.

He shakes his head slowly. 'No . . .'

'Then what is it. I'm not blind, you know.' She arcs an eyebrow.

Puck squirms a little in his seat, then after a while he asks, 'Have you talked to her.'

Santana thinks about the question for a short moment. Then she asks, 'Q?'

Puck nods and the raven haired girl shakes her head. She is lying though, she has had contact with the blonde ex-Cheerio, but she figures that it won't make Puck anymore happy to hear what she talked to Quinn about. So instead she denies talking to her former cheerleading teammate. 'Do you think I should?' Santana queers instead. The boy nods again.

* * *

If you were listening to the weather man's poor attempts at predicting the weather you should be expecting a much milder climate than yesterday and with a possibility for a little bit of sun in the afternoon. But as usual the fair haired man with the cream colored suit, that by the way is _so_ nineties, was completely and totally off the radar. Unlike yesterday there are chilling breezes coming in from the hills at northeast and the sky is heavily clouded.

Kurt sighs and stirs in his cup. Despite the promise of sun later in the day—true or not—his mood could not have been lower. He is seated by an obscured table at the rear back of the Lima Bean, contemplating his future when a blonde girl unnoticed walks up to him. She is dressed in a dark blue baby doll dress that reaches just below her knees, white stockings, a black trench coat and brown leather boots with three inch heels. Her blonde hair is curled into loose angelic locks and her bangs are pinned up to the left side of her head.

'You look beautiful, Quinn,' Kurt points out as she takes a seat opposite of him.

'Thank you. You too,' she replies and smiles, but Kurt can immediately see that there are no eyes supporting the smile. His heart aches from knowing about the hell she is going through, self-afflicted or not. Therefore he decides to avoid that subject.

'Thank you for coming,' he says instead and then he nods towards one of the Styrofoam cups on the table. 'The usual,' he explains and offers her a genuine smile.

'Thanks, Kurt,' she says with a wry smile and then she takes a careful sip of the latte. 'You said you needed my advice,' she mumbles while glancing at the petite boy over the rim of her cream colored Styrofoam cup. At least it's not a red plastic one.

Kurt nods slowly. 'Yes, I did,' he hums thoughtfully. 'I did.'

He watches the blonde girl wrinkle her forehead. 'What has happened, Kurt. Is everything okay?'

_Oh why do you have to ask, my dear ghost of Grace Kelly? _He sighs and then he shakes his head. 'You made me promise not to bring it to the table.'

She drops her gaze to the table top. 'Right.'

'But I _do_ need you advice, Chérie.' Kurt makes a short break. 'I am, as you know, still waiting on my letter of acceptance from NYADA and _if_ they accept me, which I truly hope, I am split whether I should ask Blaine to come with me or not,' he sighs.

'Oh . . .' Quinn mumbles. 'I, uh, don't you think that is a decision the _two_ of you have to make _together_? Not me.'

'I am only asking for your opinion, Quinn.'

The blonde girl sighs. 'I don't want to tell you what to do, because whatever I decide on for myself always ends up hurting the people around me that I care about. You should know that.'

_Are we talking about Sam now? And your little side step with Finn that cost you the big lipped blonde? _He cannot help but to let the smallest of compassionate smiles flicker on his face. Fortunately she doesn't notice.

'I'm not really the best go-to when it comes to relationships, you know.' There is a sad hint to her soft voice that for Kurt is impossible not to notice.

'Sweetheart,' he says and takes her hand. 'You are wonderful in every aspect possible, but you need to stop trying so hard.' He smiles and strokes her smooth hand with his thumbs. 'Just be yourself and let love come when it's ready.' She swallows hard and blinks back the tears that are stinging the back of her eyes. 'I am still waiting for your advice, though, honey,' he says in an attempt to light her up.

She snickers. 'And I still think you should ask someone else.'

'I would if I felt that there was someone intelligent enough that I could ask, apart from you.'

She closes her eyes for a short moment and smiles wryly. 'Stop flannel me!' she giggles. 'You've got Rachel. She is pretty bright, though I hate to admit it.'

Kurt only arcs an eyebrow but it's enough to cause a burst of laughter from the blonde girl. 'Okay, okay.' She takes a deep breath to calm herself down. 'I think you should ask him.'

'Just like that?' Kurt asks and Quinn smirks.

'Yes, just like that. Either he says yes and the two of you live happily ever after or—'

'Or he says no and leaves me,' Kurt adds with a sad look on his face.

Quinn shakes her head slowly. 'Or he says no and you two go on with a long distance relationship. If anyone could make it work it would be you,' she assures.

Kurt licks his lips. 'I don't know, Quinn. Maybe he is not ready to get tied up like that . . .'

She arcs her eyebrow in that characteristic way of hers. 'Are you kidding me, Kurt? He_ loves_ you!'

The pretty boy smiles and nods slowly. 'He does, doesn't he? But still, it is a great step.'

'You should give it a shot.'

'Yeah?'

'Yeah,' she smiles.

'On one condition?' Kurt says.

Quinn narrows her eyes suspiciously. 'What condition?'

'You let yourself loose and enjoy this last year at McKinley.'

'That simple?' she asks, though she knows that there is nothing simple with that deal.

Kurt nods and offers his pinkie to her. 'Pinkie promise?'

For a short moment she weighs the options she has. They aren't many. Should she bail while she still has a chance? No, she is done running away. She extends her pinkie and hooks it with his. 'Pinkie promise,' she says and musters a half-smirk.

The boy smiles widely. 'Now that we have reached an agreement on that matter can I ask you of another favor, Quinn?'

'Yes. What?'

'Please come back to Glee Club. We need you,' Kurt asks despite Sue Sylvester's warning to stay away from the former head-Cheerio.

She drops her gaze and her sunny smile. 'I, I don't know.'

'You are missed,' Kurt adds and he can hear the snort of disbelief from Quinn as he utters the words. He sighs and whirls his purple scarf around his neck. The coffee is long ago drunk and he has an appointment downtown he needs to attend in half an hour. He rises and throws a long last glance at the beautiful blonde. 'He is worried about you,' he says and walks off leaving a puzzled Quinn to process his last line.

* * *

Yet again she is here, sitting in the second row of the small church, her best Sunday dress neatly pressed and her hair perfectly combed and it isn't even Sunday. She is all alone in the old church and at first that had felt pretty uncomfortable, but now after six weeks of doing this every Tuesday afternoon she has grown quite fond of the tranquility and silence of the empty church. She is waiting for her mother to show up, but on the inside she knows that she won't make it today either. She hasn't for the past five weeks.

It is funny how it was her mother that suggested that she would go through this counseling and still Judy hasn't showed up for more than one meeting. Though she doesn't bother that much, it is actually better this way. It is a lot easier to talk to the reverend about things when you don't have your mother hovering above your head to hear everything that comes out of your mouth. And from what she can tell from the reverend he seems to agree with her, it is better for her to talk alone with him than to have Mrs. Fabray sit in and hear all about what she has to say.

So yet again she is sitting here, in the empty church, waiting for the reverend to finish up whatever he is doing in the small room at the back of the church, which he calls office.

She hasn't spent this much time in church since her father left her mother and her about one and a half year ago, her father being the strict Christian in the house. She still goes to church every Sunday though. But not because it is the house of God but rather because it's probably the only place where she feels safe. No one here knows about her past, no one knows what she went through during sophomore year. No one knows about Beth, about Puck, Finn, her attempts at getting Beth back, her obsession with prom queen and no one knows about Sam. Well, except from the reverend—who she has these weekly meetings with, but who has confidentiality—and Judy Fabray and, well, Sam. Yes, Sam, he goes to the same church, or at least he did, she hasn't seen him around since he left for Kentucky last year though. Perhaps he has left the church and God and everything behind though Quinn doesn't think that is the case. He is not really the person to abandon things. It is more likely that he is avoiding her and instead going to another church, though it hurts to think like that.

Interrupting her deep thoughts the reverend appear at the doorway to his office. He is dressed in his black Cassock. 'I am so sorry I had you waiting, Ms. Fabray,' he greats her as he walks across the stone towards her. That characteristically well-meaning smile is plastered on his face and the eyes prove that it is completely genuine. 'How are you today?' he asks as he reaches the bench on which she is seated. He moves in and takes a seat next to her.

'I am good, thank you reverend. How are you doing today?'

He observes her for a second then he smiles again. 'I am good, Quinn, thank you, but I see that there is something bothering you. Is there anything you want to talk about?'

_Yes, reverend, there is. You see I met my English teacher downtown last Sunday and we ended up drinking hot chocolate at this comfy café and all or a sudden every kid in school thinks I'm sleeping with my teacher. There are even photos of us circling around the school yard._ She offers him a weak smile and shakes her head slowly. 'No, not really.'

The reverend just nods, he knows that the key to get this lovely young lady to open up her heart is to not pressure her. 'And how about your mother, is she coming today?'

Quinn shakes her head once again. 'No I don't think so . . .' There is a hint of sadness in her voice that he is not used to hear upon asking if her mother is attending. He lays an encouraging hand on her shoulder.

'My child, is everything okay between your mother and you?' he queers gently. The response to the question is a simple shrug from Quinn's side. He pats her shoulder gently. 'Has there got anything to do with her not attending these meetings?'

She shrugs again. 'I don't know . . . maybe. It's just . . .' The reverend sits quiet next to her, waiting for her to finish the sentence whenever she finds the strength to. He has come to realize that this young lady in front of him has a serious problem with relationships, of any kind. She has a great trust-issue, of which he cannot blame her in any way. She has—he has learned—been abandoned more than once in her short life and she has yet to recover from the very first time.

'Have you had any contact with your father recently,' he asks and upon asking he sees a hint of sorrow pass her beautiful hazel eyes. He knows she still loves her father even though he kicked her out and abandoned her when she needed him the most. From knowing Russell Fabray since a decade back the reverend knows that there is a lot to love about that man but he also knows that Mr. Fabray won't let anything compromise his perfect Catholic living, not even when it is _his_ own daughter who ends up pregnant.

'No, I haven't,' she says after a while. To be honest she hasn't heard from him in three months. She knows her mother has talked to him though, she has seen his number on the callers ID over recent calls.

'You miss him?' The question is more of a statement that an actual question.

Slowly Quinn nods. 'Yeah, I do.'

The reverend offers a small but well-meaning smile. 'And how does your mother take it?' referring to her father leaving them. Or rather her mother kicking Quinn's father out.

'Uh . . . pretty good, I guess . . . It's not like she talks about him or anything, but I think she finds it better this way, you know.' She nods to herself, as if to convince herself that that is the actual case. 'She is seeing people now, men.'

'And are you okay with that?'

Quinn shrugs. _Why wouldn't I be okay?_ 'Yes, of course. I mean it's her life, right?'

The reverend nods slowly. 'Yes, Quinn, it is her life, but you are a big part of that life.'

'So?'

'So it means that if your mother decides to bring someone new into her life that will affect you as well.'

'Yeah, I suppose,' she notes nonchalantly. She doesn't care about her mother's love life, at least not as long as it doesn't interfere with her own life too much. The two drift into a short silence, which give them both time to reflect over what the other has said.

Three minutes later the reverend breaks the silence by asking how she is doing in school.

'Okay, I guess. My grades are good and so is my attendance record . . . so yeah, pretty good.' She doesn't bother telling him about her being accepted to Yale.

He nods. 'That is great, but what about that choir you were a part of? How is that going?'

Quinn's lips part into a wide toothy smile. 'You mean Glee Club?' she laughs.

The reverend smiles as well. 'Yes, Glee Club.'

'Uh . . . well, pretty good too, I guess. We get a long a lot better now than we used to and that is great! There's a new kid too, Rory, he's okay, a bit different since his from Ireland, but he's nice.'

The reverend keeps nodding throughout her summary of the past months with Glee Club. 'That sounds very good, Quinn.'

There is a slightly concerned look on his face, though. A look Quinn cannot help but to notice. 'Is everything okay?' she asks gently.

The tenseness in the reverend's face decreases some and he nods slowly. 'It is just that it hurts, my child, to see you like this.' There is sadness to his tone that Quinn has never before noticed.

'I'm feeling a lot better now,' Quinn tries, 'much thanks to you, reverend.' _It is only a half lie_, she tells herself.

He nods again and smiles. 'Thank you, Quinn.' He stays quiet for a few moments before he continues, 'but there will take a lot more work to make you happy again . . . and some of that I cannot help you with.'

She observes him with soft but sad eyes. 'I know,' she whispers.

'My sweet child,' he says and pats her shoulder once again, 'you need to solve things with your mother. It will help your healing, even though it doesn't feel like that right now.'

'I know,' she sighs.

He nods slowly. 'I think we are done for today, Quinn, unless you have something else you want to talk about.'

She shakes rapidly. 'No, no, I don't. Thank you for today reverend!' she says and stands up.

The reverend stands up as well and walks away from the pew. 'Have a great day, Quinn, and take care!'

She smiles. 'You too, reverend.' She starts to walk out of the church, but then she stops short, turns around and looks back at him. 'I see you next Tuesday,' she calls out before exiting the church.

* * *

Author's note

On the show I find the Sue Sylvester-Kurt Hummel interaction very interesting. Partially because they are both very witty and sarcastic, but also the two of them seem to understand each other on a level that most other characters on the show don't. So at the beginning of this chapter you get to see my attempt at writing Sue-Kurt interaction, but it is actually really difficult.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter and don't forget to review! :)


	11. In Which Plans are Made

Not Making the Same Mistake Again

Summary: Less than four months remain of the school year, for some students it's the last four months at William McKinley High. Therefore it's natural for the kids to want to make the best of the remaining time. However, a lot of things can go wrong in sixteen weeks . . .

Rated Teen for language primarily. There may be some spoilers for the two first seasons of the show as well as the third up until somewhere short after the episode _Hold on to Sixteen_.

I hope you will enjoy reading this multi-character fanfiction as much as I have enjoyed writing it!

I apologize in advance for any incorrect grammar or typo that may occur.

Reviews are very welcome.

Disclaimer: I do_not_ own _Glee_ nor do I own any of its characters. The same goes for anything involving the music mentioned.

End of author's note. Now on to the story!

* * *

_Chapter 11 – In Which Plans are Made_

[WEDNESDAY]

Graduation is coming soon; you can basically touch the anticipation hanging in the air. Circa three months and then there'll be "Hasta la vista McKinley High! Hola libertad! Finally!" He has been waiting for what feels like forever to get out of this shitty school. Okay, he doesn't really think it's _that bad_, but that he cannot let anyone know. To be honest he is going to miss everybody, specially the guys in Glee Club, even though he would never admit it. He is the fucking residential bad boy, the freaking king of this school, and cool people like him don't do feelings, especially not when it's for the most geek-labeled club at the entire school.

But fortunately for him—and probably for a lot of others—there are still a couple of months left of the semester and senior year.

He walks out of the main building with a straight back and a comfortable swagger. He is untouchable and he knows it, but most important is the fact that everyone else knows it. No one with their brains still functioning messes with Noah Puckerman.

He has got no plans for tonight, but that doesn't mean that he is going to sit around and do nothing. Scanning the parking lot for cars he might know the owners of, his eyes lands upon one old, but very clean—unbelievably clean—beat-up truck. He knows exactly who owns it. Pulling up the collar on his jacket he starts to walk towards the car.

In contrast to last week, you don't actually need to bring a coat or a jacket to school. He does anyway tough, simply because he looks so damn good in that red and cream colored Leatherman jacket.

About half an hour later the double doors open and a group of about thirty students stroll out of the main building. A few of them Puck recognizes as people from his history class, the class he is supposed to attend to now. Among them are Artie and Mike. The duo waves causally as they pass him by.

_Come on, man! How long can it take!_ Puck sighs and leans back on his elbows; he has taken a half-sitting half-lying position on the hood of the old beat-up truck.

A few minutes later, when most of his classmates from history class have already gone home, a tall, lanky figure appears in the doorway. He looks a little lost. And with a walk, not too far from a Neanderthal's, the tall, brown haired boy approaches the car.

'Dude,' the tall not too bright football player mumbles as he reaches his car.

'What?' Puck exclaims, playing innocent. He interlaces his fingers behind his head and leans back against the windshield. The sun is feeling very good on his skin.

'I just washed that,' Finn points out and motions towards where the shorter boys' muddy combat boots are making contact with the hood.

'So?' Puck shrugs. 'Do it again.'

Finn sighs, he hasn't had the best of days and Mr. Schuester had just handed back the latest Spanish exam. His score . . . two correct answers out of—how many was it?—twenty, no thirty. 'Hey, man, get off my car!'

The boy with the Mohawk yawns disinterested. 'Why are you so damn grumpy, man?'

'Maybe because I just failed my fifth exam this semester – out of six. Or maybe, _maybe_, because you're leaving freakin' clods of mud on _my_ hood.' Finn hurls the driver's door open and tosses his duffel bag over onto the passenger seat. He is usually not the one to get angry easily, but he's had enough for today.

'I think you need to chill out, Finnessa,' Puck speculates and glances at two girls from the cheerleading squad who passes the truck. 'Looking _fine,_ ladies!' he calls after them and one of them turns around and waves back at him before they start to giggle and hurries inside the building that contains the gym.

Finn sighs loudly. He's done with patience. 'Just get off of my hood already!'

The boy with the Mohawk shakes his head. 'Not gonna happen, dude.' Then he digs a package of cigarettes out of his Leatherman jacket's pocket. Placing a cigarette between his lips and extending a hand with one towards Finn, he mumbles, 'Cigarette?' while balancing the slim tobacco stick between his lips.

'Are you crazy!' Finn almost shouts while slapping away his friend's hand. 'Beiste will kill you if she sees you!' he adds in a bit more controlled voice.

'Chill out, man,' Puck sighs and rolls his eyes before he puts the two cigarettes back into the package. 'I'm just testing you.' Finn shakes his head in irritation and Puck continues, 'And you totally failed. Had it been freshman year, hell even sophomore year you wouldn't have chickened out.'

The tall quarterback clenches his jaw. 'I've got other priorities now.' He stares at his team mate for a short moment before he climbs into the truck and turns the key to the ignition. 'Last time, dude – get off of my car!'

Surprisingly the shorter boy does as he is told and lazily slides off the hood. But instead of backing away from the old beat-up truck and watching his friend drive off, Puck snatches the passenger door open and hops inside. 'Hope you don't mind,' he says as he closes the door. 'Not that it would change anything . . .'

Finn sighs and shakes his head slowly. He loves Puck, but sometimes the guy can be a bit too much. For example right after you've just failed _another _Spanishtest. Like right now . . .

'Look, man,' Puck begins. 'I'm gonna be honest with you.' He glances over at Finn. 'You've become a bore.' When there is no response from the quarterback Puck continues. 'I mean you've always been boring. Like, no one can ever be as cool and fun as me, but come on. Seriously, you need to loosen up, Finn.'

The taller boy sighs heavily. 'Why do you care, Puckerman?'

The said boy shrugs. 'I dunno, man. Maybe because we used to be buddies. We wouldn't be state champions if it wasn't for you and me.'

'I don't get it,' Finn mumbles after a moment of silence. He manages to throw a quick glance at the Mohawked boy between shifting gears. 'We _are_ friend.'

Puck nods. 'Well, yeah, technically, but you're so damn boring! People don't see you as the star QB anymore. You're just another one of those Glee nerds.'

'And you're not?' Finn's eyebrows furrows.

The boy with the Mohawk shakes his head. 'No. I'm the residential bad boy. I don't get boring.'

Finn takes a few seconds to think through what his friend has said. He doesn't want to be boring. He doesn't like to be laughed at or drowned in cold slushies. 'So?' he asks, 'what should I do?'

Smiling deviously Puck pads his friend on the shoulder. 'Become more like me.'

Finn arcs a confused eyebrow. 'Hang outside 7-Eleven and look depressed until someone buys me a bear?'

'What? No, no, no. I don't do that!' Puck says. 'Not anymore.' He sighs and watches an old lady with a dog pass before them on the pedestrian crossing. _Come on, grandma, a little faster please! We ain't got all week. _'Stop being so damn uptight. Loosen up a bit.'

'How?'

'I don't know. That's not my problem, man.'

* * *

_Dear Journal,_

_Today I found out that Will Schuester is having problems with truants. Both Irish breakfast and the girl who can't sing have been MIA since last week. Apparently Ms. Fabray has been skipping both Glee Club and other classes too since the little incident with the hockey team the other day. _

_The decision to have the scandalous photo of one certain ex-Cheerio spread out among the pupils at McKinley High was one of the best I have ever made. All I have to do now is wait for blonde little miss perfect to come crawling, begging me on her bare knees to take away those hideous pictures, and when she does, she will have no other option than to ally with me. Sue Sylvester, you are a genius!_

Sue closes the journal and places it in the safe drawer, before she pulls out a can of protein powder from the cabinet. It is time for another one of her daily protein shakes.

She uncaps the lid of the bottle and pours some protein powder into it. Then she mixes it with some water, vitamin powder and mango juice. After grabbing the lid and putting it on again she shakes the bottle before she takes a first sip. Not delicious, but it does good.

A firm knock on the door interrupts her in her lunch break and she sets the shake down before calling, 'Come in.'

'Sue,' a tall man says as he enters.

'Curls,' Sue greats with a sour tone. 'How nice of you to break away from your hair gels and curling iron just to come and see me.'

The man stares bluntly at her. 'Enough with the hair jokes, Sue.' She observes him deadpan, as if she didn't even hear him. 'I want to talk about something very important with you,' he tells her.

Sue clasps her hands in front of her and leans back in her chair. 'Spit it out, Schuester.'

William glances at the window that is facing the corridor. Then he leans forward. 'It has come to my knowing that there are pictures circling around the school,' he begins.

'What kinds of pictures,' Sue asks and arcs her eyebrows.

'That indicates that one of our students is having a relationship with a teacher here.'

Sue sighs and strokes her jaw. 'That kind of behavior cannot be tolerated, William.' The New Direction coach nods but when he is about to say something Sue cuts him off. 'It needs to be reported to principal Figgins immediately. The student and the teacher in question should be suspended from the school with immediate effect. You remember what happened to Sandy Ryerson, don't you, William?'

Will nods again. 'I do, Sue. But I don't think expelling her—them—would be the right solution. I think it would just do them more harm.'

'It is not about what is best for _them_, William. We need to make an example of it. Show that we do not allow that kind of behavior here at William McKinley High.'

'Of course, but I think that there are other ways—'

Sue cuts him off again. 'No, there is not.' She shakes her head and holds up a warning finger. 'Listen carefully now, Hairspray, if we do _not_ respond properly, the students will think it is okay to act like that. The teachers will lose their respect and their power. It was exactly what happened at Columbine High School in ninety-nine.'

'But Sue—'

'No, William. Let me finish. It ended with two students shooting up the school. They killed _fifteen_ people, including themselves,' she finishes and crosses her arms over her red tracksuit covered chest.

'The Columbine High School massacre was not a result of the school not suspending a student because a couple of sensitive photographs leaked out. It was two boys getting back at the school, in which they had been bullied,' William informs and leans back into the chair again.

'Whatever,' Sue waves it off nonchalantly. 'One thing leads to another. Next thing you know, we'll be the ones standing face to face with a pissed off kid with a machine gun in hand.'

William sighs. 'That is not going to happened, Sue. She isn't like that. You know it just as well as I do.'

She narrows her eyes and stares thoughtfully at her curly haired co-worker. 'They must really mean something special to you, the Glee kids.'

'This is not just about me, Sue. Or them, for that matter' William says calmly. 'Everyone makes mistakes. You and I do too—'

'I don't make mistakes,' Sue cuts off.

'But you do, Sue. Everyone does. And they shouldn't be punished for such a minor side step, unless they do it again.'

She observes him for a moment. 'What do you want from me?'

'If you find out who posted that photo or if you could have it disappear somehow, I would be cordially grateful.'

'Is that it?' Sue queers.

William nods. 'It is.' Though he knows very well that it is a lot to ask for.

Sue purses her lips as she thinks about Williams words. Then she opens her mouth and says, 'Now get out of my office.'

The New Direction coach raises and walks towards the door, but before he walks out he turns around to face the Cheerios head coach. 'Thank you, Sue.'

'Get that nasty bird nest of hair out of my sight,' she replies and William leaves the room with a light smile on his lips.

* * *

It is late, with school starting at 8.30 A.M. tomorrow, but it doesn't really bother Santana. Her mother's not home yet and as long as she's not, Santana is not going to bed and her mother is not going to complain. Because what you don't know doesn't hurt you, right?

Besides, Santana is not quite ready to send Brittany home just yet. The two of them have spent the whole afternoon together, ever since Cheerios practice ended at 4 P.M.. They started off with coffee at the Lima Bean then a trip to the mall. After that they headed to the cinema to catch the 9.00 P.M. movie, _Mission Impossible 4: Ghost Protocol_. The film wasn't nearly as good as Santana had hoped, but on the other hand she has never been one for Tom Cruise. Brittany, on the other hand, loved it, and it made the whole thing worth it.

Even though the hands on the clock is saying that it is getting way too late for a school day, Santana neither wants nor can bring herself to tell Brittany to go home. So instead she prays that her mother won't be walking in anytime soon.

They are curled up on the bed, and have been for the past thirty minutes, just enjoying each other's company, letting long sequences of pure and peaceful quietness pass, when Brittany finally breaks the silence.

'Do you ever think we will be . . . open? Like Kurt and Blaine.' she asks while brushing a strand of black hair off of her friend's face.

Santana peers up at the blonde's face. 'One day. Maybe.' She thinks about what happened to Kurt before he transferred to Dalton Academy last year and what she herself has done to hide her _true _feelings. She dated both Sam Evans and Dave Karofsky—yes, Karofsky of all people—to mislead everyone.

'I would really like it, you know. For us to be like them,' Brittany points out whilst running a hand along the hot body lying beneath hers.

The raven haired girl sighs. 'I know you would. I would too.' She caresses her friend's cheek.

After a short moment of silence Brittany queers, 'Do you want to make out?' Only Brittany could make the transition from deadly serious to bubbly fuzziness in a split second without making it feel to contrived or strange. _Maybe that's why I love her so much?_ Santana notes.

Santana nods and the blonde girl lowers her head towards Santana's. 'I really love you,' she whispers before she lets her lips make contact with the Latina's.

When they break apart Brittany glances down at Santana. 'What is wrong?' she asks, noting that Santana is not being her usual self. Santana wrinkles her forehead and looks to the side. She sighs. 'Come on,' Brittany encourages. 'Speak to me.'

The raven haired girl sighs again. 'I kind of feel bad for Quinn, you know.' Brittany gazes at her, not quite following. 'I feel like I need to do something, but I don't know what.' She makes a short pause. 'I mean, I can't take back any of the photos, because now that everybody have already seen them, it won't make any difference.'

The blonde nods slowly. 'I wish she could be as happy as us.' She pushes another strand of hair from the Latina's forehead. Santana turns her head and stares at Brittany. 'What?' the witty blonde asks in a bubbly voice.

'You're right!' Santana exclaims.

'About what?' Brittany asks and blinks, being completely lost.

Santana smirks. 'I can't believe I'm saying this, but we've gotta get Ken and Barbie back on.'

'I thought you said you never liked to play with dolls,' Brittany points out a tad confused. Her forehead is wrinkled into deep creases.

_Baby, why do you have to be so stupid sometimes?_ The Latina sighs loudly. 'I weren't referring to the disproportional plastic bimbos, babe.'

'Aha. Okay. I get it . . . No, I don't . . . Wait, who were you talking about?'

Santana annoyed rolls her eyes. 'Fabrevans.' She gives Brittany a look as if asking _Do you get it?_ Then she adds, 'Q and Trouty Mouth.'

* * *

Author's note

Sooo this is the eleventh chapter, it's a little shorter than the previous ones, But I've been busy with school… Anyway, I hope you liked it and please review :)


	12. Somebody to Love

Not Making the Same Mistake Again

Summary: Less than four months remain of the school year, for some students it's the last four months at William McKinley High. Therefore it's natural for the kids to want to make the best of the remaining time. However, a lot of things can go wrong in sixteen weeks . . .

Rated Teen for language primarily. There may be some spoilers for the two first seasons of the show as well as the third up until somewhere short after the episode _Hold on to Sixteen_.

I hope you will enjoy reading this multi-character fanfiction as much as I have enjoyed writing it!

I apologize in advance for any incorrect grammar or typo that may occur.

Reviews are very welcome.

Disclaimer: I do_not_ own _Glee_ nor do I own any of its characters. The same goes for anything involving the music mentioned.

End of author's note. Now on to the story!

* * *

_Chapter 12 – Somebody to Love_

[THURSDAY]

It has become somewhat of a new hobby for her. It is not like she is a total outcast, but distancing herself from everyone else has somehow become important, vital. When all of your friends have a tendency to stab you in the back if you so carelessly turn it to them, you will soon find no reason to talk to them, let alone spend time with them. Therefore silence and solitude becomes your new best friends. And the greatest thing about them is that when you are not keeping an eye on them they won't go and stab you in the back. They won't even trash talk you. They will always be loyal and they will always be there to company you. Unfortunately there is a backside to everything—why can't there exist something that is pure good?—Silence and Solitude will sooner or later invite _their _friends, and those; well they are not as good a company. There are Insignificance, Invisibility and Exclusion, and they are _not _nice guys.

One thing that hasn't changed though, since the word got around, is that everyone keeps throwing glances at her, but sadly it isn't those of admire, respect and awe anymore . . . Instead, try: disgust, loathing and gloat.

Being too caught up in her gloomy thoughts, the slender blonde doesn't notice the upright confident figure that is coming her way. And it isn't until she hears a familiar voice that she snaps out of her cocoon of thoughts. 'You don't seem too happy,' the familiar voice says. The one she would recognize any day as Santana's.

_Since when do you care if I'm happy or not? You made out with Sam right in front of me at Rachel's party, but you didn't seem to care then._ 'Oh,' comes her response instead.

'That's all you have to say?' the Latina asks and arcs a questioning eyebrow. The blonde shrugs. 'I just wanted to make sure you don't go join the Skanks again, you know. I actually care about you, Q.' Santana sits down on the bench beside Quinn. Somehow the two girls have grown closer during this year than they have ever been before. Even though the two have ended up stealing each other's boyfriends on more than one occasion. Sure they had been so called best friends since freshmen year, but it had mostly been for show. But now they could talk about feelings, like true, real feelings. Sometimes Quinn thinks it has to do with the fact that Santana is finally somewhat confident and at peace with her sexuality. She doesn't need to bring others down any longer to make herself feel good.

The Latina takes a deep breath and leans back against the cold concrete wall. 'This is pretty messed up, Q.' Quinn glances sideways at her. The look says more than any words ever could. 'The English teacher . . .' Santana speculates, completely ignoring the look from Quinn begging her not to carry on with this conversation, or monologue so far. 'At least he is pretty hot. I mean, isn't that better than people saying you slept with, uh . . . like Mr. Schuester or Principle Figgins?'

Quinn figures that the comment was an attempt from Santana's to try and cheer her up. And it did indeed make Quinn's lips curl up at the corners for a split second. And that microscopic movement of Quinn's lips didn't go unnoticed. The next thing Quinn feels is Santana's sharp elbow in her ribs. 'I saw that, Q!' the Latina nearly shouts.

Wincing from both the pain in her side and the sudden increase of the decibel level in Santana's voice, Quinn cannot help but to let a small almost absent smile play on her lips.

'Now thank me,' Santana says, now back to her normal tone.

Quinn frowns. 'For what?'

The Latina rolls her eyes theatrically. 'For cheering you up, Stretch Marks.'

'Santana,' Quinn says annoyed. She doesn't appreciate the nickname Santana gave her after she had given birth to Beth.

'Okay, okay,' Santana says while holding her hands up in defense. 'I'll stop . . . for a while.' The blonde shoots her a sharp look. 'Okay, I get it!'

'Good,' Quinn mutters and crosses her arms over her chest.

'Since we're doing such a damn good job bonding right now, can I ask you a question, Q?' Not completely convinced by the fact that Santana can be serious about something Quinn sighs and gives her a questioning look.

'Do you still love him?' Santana's queer comes.

Quinn blinks confound, surprised by the Latina's straight forwardness and the fact that she doesn't know what to say. So her answer comes stuttered out as a confused question instead. 'W-who?'

Santana rolls her eyes for the second time since she sought up Quinn. 'Trouty Mouth.'

'He has a name, you know,' Quinn mumbles, not knowing what else she is supposed to say or do.

'Yeah, whatever,' Santana nonchalantly waves it away with her hand. 'It still doesn't answer my question, Barbie?' Quinn swallows hard. Her throat suddenly feeling very dry but at the same time sticky.

* * *

'I don't get it, dude . . . Why didn't you stay with her if you love her so much?' Sam says and leans back into the back rest of the couch. He tosses the crumbled paper ball in his hands, which once were his Spanish essay, to the boy with the Mohawk.

Puck sighs and leans his head against the wall. The cold cream colored concrete, which is in a bad need of a re-paint, cools the back of his neck and the top of his back. He is semi-sitting, semi-laying on the short side of the bed, with his feet hanging off the edge. 'She didn't want me,' he mumbles and pokes with his right hand index at a hole in the bedspread.

Sam arcs an eyebrow, not really out of surprise or confusion, but rather in disbelief. The Puck he has gotten to know could probably get any girl at school—or elsewhere—if he just wanted to. So why not her? If she could fall for Finn and his manboobs then why can't she fall for Puck. The guy's got a rocking body _and_ he's got more brains than Finn. Not that that is a huge achievement . . . Finn's like a caveman in a Leatherman jacket and denims. Otherwise known as the typical jock.

'She said I ruined her life. Said she hated me,' the Jewish boy shrugs and tosses the paper ball back to Sam.

'She does have a point,' Sam notes, remembering what the girl had told him about her rough sophomore year.

'I gave her free hands to do what she wanted with the baby, abortion, keep it, adoption.'

Sam arcs his brow again. 'Look man, as far as I've understood _her parents_ didn't give her much choice. They threw her out! I mean raising a child on your own without a home is not easy. Trust _me_, I kinda know' he says referring to having to take care of his two younger siblings when his family went bankrupt and was forced to live in a small motel room.

He throws the ball back to Puck.

'I still gave her every option. I even offered her money.'

The blonde boy rolls his eyes. 'I don't think it was the free rein she wanted. I think what she wanted was someone—you—to be there to support her. Someone to lean on, you know.'

'Are you implying that _I_ failed her? he throws the ball back over to Sam. This time he puts a little more force behind it.

Sam catches the ball with little effort; Puck has never had the qualities to become quarterback. He is strong and sustain and very good at awe the opponents, but his pitches are not good enough. The blonde shakes his head. 'No, I'm not. All I say is that you could have done _more_, if you really wanted to stay with her.'

Puck purses his lips, the way he does when he thinks hard, and gazes down.

'What I'm saying, dude, is that you're better than most. Hell, you're the best at this school. And you're better than Finn. Despite what people say you're a great guy, Puck.' The sincerest in Sam's voice impossible misunderstand. He truly means what he is saying.

The tanned boy glances up at his blonde friend. 'You really are gay, Evans,' he mocks. Sam smirks, knowing that Puck doesn't mean what he just said. 'You're not that bad either,' Puck adds after a short moment which makes the blonde boy's smile widen even more. Puck's face remains serious though. 'How come we're the two _sexiest_ dudes at school and none of us can seem to find true love?' He gazes at Sam who shrugs and drops his glare to his lap.

Had it been a week ago Sam would have found the fact that Puck, the residential bad boy, were talking about true love and heartbreak rather amusing. Though, today, it just made him more aware of how unhappy he himself really is.

'Because we've already screwed up our chances,' he mumbles.

* * *

'Tell me I'm a genius!' she says as she slides into the booth at the rear back of the burger joint.

'I'm a genius,' the blonde girl, who was already seated by the table, mumbles between bites. Judging by the small pieces of pickles, cheese and tomato that is spilled on the table she is eating a cheeseburger. Or the person—whoever he or she was—how sat here before ate one. Anyways, it doesn't really matters.

The other girl rolls her eyes theatrically, but decides to drop whatever sharp comment she has on her tongue. Had it been someone else sitting opposite of her, she would never think twice about it, she would just let it roll off her tongue and take the consequences later – because there are always consequences. Negative or positive, good or bad, there are consequences either way you look at it.

'You ain't gonna ask me why I'm a genius, Britt?' the girl says as she steals a French fry from the blonde.

'Why are you a genius, Santana?' Brittany asks as she steals back the French fry from the Latina. 'My fries,' she points out. When she sees the surprised look on Santana's face, the blonde starts giggling and slides her box of French fries across the table to Santana. 'What's mine is yours.'

Santana chuckles nervously. 'You kinda freaked me out there, Britt.'

'I know,' Brittany answers nonchalantly. 'You should have seen your face. _Epic!_' The last word she basically sings out.

The Latina grimaces and sighs. 'You'll pay for it one day, you know that.'

Brittany nods carefree. 'No, I won't,' she says in her usual bubbly voice and Santana frowns. There is only one person that can get away with rebelling against Santana and that is Brittany, unfortunately—sometimes—for the Latina, the not too clever blonde is fully aware of this. 'You love me too much.'

Santana can feel her cheeks warming up. 'No, I don't,' she protests, though she knows it is no use for it. Brittany is fully conscious of how Santana feels about her. And it isn't even that the Latina is afraid of. What she is afraid of though—no, what she is terrified of—is losing her authority, the respect. The fear that other students, and random citizens of Lima for that matter, have for her. She has come to realize that she has a lot in common with another Lima Heights rebel. Though, she is not too happy to admit it, she can see parts of herself in Noah Puckerman. Yep, the residential bad boy, Puckerman. One of those things being the fear of losing their respect. _Maybe Puck isn't just a Lima Loser? Or maybe I am one too?_

Brittany smiles. 'You do.' She takes a sip of her Coca Cola. 'But, forget about that now. Why are you a genius? You didn't even pass the English test, did you?'

Santana gives her girlfriend a sharp look. 'No, I didn't, Britt. Thank you very much for bringing that up. And for the record, I don't care what the fuck that loser Mr. Eaton says. He's probably just givin' A's to little Quinny.' She angrily pops another fry into her mouth and chews it like it was the head of her worst enemy, which by the way would be Rachel, huh?

'I thought you too were friends again?' Brittany asks confused.

Sheepishly Santana nods and sighs. 'We are, I just got a little upset, you know. She's so damn perfect. All the time. Got straight A's and everything.'

'She isn't more perfect than you,' the blonde girl says and smiles. 'Not to me.'

The Latina licks her lips. 'You mean that?'

'Mm-hm,' Brittany hums and nods. 'I do.'

'You're pretty perfect too, you know.'

'I know.' The girls snicker. 'Can you tell me now?' Brittany asks again after a moment.

'We're going to a party,' Santana informs and smiles proudly before she snatches another fry from Brittany's box.

A frowning Brittany blinks confused. 'We are?'

'Yep.'

'Where?'

Santana smiles deviously. 'At Q's.'

'At Quinn's?' Brittany asks and Santana nods. 'Why hasn't she said anything to me?' A sudden look of disappointment and sadness spreads across the blonde's face.

'Because she doesn't know about it yet,' Santana says and winks.

Looking as confused as ever Brittany tries to puzzle together what she has gotten from her friend. Not surprisingly she ends up piecing together a misshapen puzzle that is missing a lot of pieces—important pieces—and that are giving her an image that could easily be a work done by Pablo Picasso. 'How can she have a party without knowing it? How does she invite the guests?' the blonde asks confounded.

'Simple,' Santana sniffs and glances at Brittany. 'She doesn't.' The blonde wrinkles her forehead and Santana decides she better continue explaining before her friend comes up with another not too clever question. '_We_ are inviting the guests.'

The daffy blonde blinks slowly as if she is processing the news. After a moment she asks, 'Can I invite Lord Tubbington?'

Santana shakes her head. 'Nope. He doesn't like pool parties if I remember right.'

Brittany nods, remembering the last time she went swimming with her cat. She had to lure him with cat treats and catnip to make him leave his hideout under her bed. 'Then who are we inviting?'

Santana smirks. 'Glee Club.'

'Glee Club?' Brittany repeats.

'Yes, Glee Club. What are you, ninety and deaf?'

Brittany shakes her head. 'No seventeen, I think.'

Santana rolls her eyes. 'Anyway, we're inviting Glee Club.'

'Last time,' Brittany mumbles. 'Didn't we kind of get in trouble for throwing a Glee party?'

The Latina shrugs. 'So? When did that ever stop us?'

Thinking about it, Brittany decides that Santana is right. When did that ever stop them? 'But, San, there is one thing I don't understand . . .'

'Yeah?'

'I thought you said the guys in Glee were super lame at parties. So why'd you wanna throw a party for them?'

The Latina smiles her most devious smile. 'Because Troudy Mouth'll be there.'

The tall blonde frowns. 'I don't follow . . .'

'You don't have to. Just make sure everyone's in Glee Club knows about the party,' Santana says and begins to rise. 'And Britt, make sure Lady Lips knows, 'kay?' The Latina leaves the table and heads for the exit.

Brittany nods, though she is still not quite sure why Santana is suddenly so interested in seeing Sam Evans at the party. He's got nice abs, and his ass is pretty damn nice too, but still . . .

* * *

Author's note

First of all, I'd like to thank those of you who take time to post reviews! You're awesome! :)

Also, I had neglected to read up on this student-teacher-romantic relationship thing that Quinn is rumored to have going on with her English teacher. I apologize for that. I guess I got so caught up in putting my ideas on paper that I completely forgot to check if what I stated about students getting suspended for having romantic relationships with teachers were true or not. Anyway, I'm happy someone pointed it out though. And hopefully I'll learn from my mistake :)

Secondly, I would like to apologize for any recurring grammar, spelling and/or idiomatic mistakes I might have made. I'm going to blame them on English not being my first language ;)

Finally, I hope you liked this chapter and please don't forget to review! :)


	13. Dance with Somebody

Not Making the Same Mistake Again

Summary: Less than four months remain of the school year, for some students it's the last four months at William McKinley High. Therefore it's natural for the kids to want to make the best of the remaining time. However, a lot of things can go wrong in sixteen weeks . . .

Rated Teen for language primarily. There may be some spoilers for the two first seasons of the show as well as the third up until somewhere short after the episode _Hold on to Sixteen_.

I hope you will enjoy reading this multi-character fanfiction as much as I have enjoyed writing it!

I apologize in advance for any incorrect grammar or typo that may occur.

Reviews are very welcome.

Disclaimer: I do_not_ own _Glee_ nor do I own any of its characters. The same goes for anything involving the music mentioned.

End of author's note. Now on to the story!

* * *

_Chapter 13 – Dance With Somebody_

[FRIDAY – part I]

As she is walking into the choir room she feels more eyes on her than usual. Of course everybody is looking at her; she is now officially dubbed the biggest slut in McKinley High's history. As if it wasn't enough to have a baby when in sophomore year . . .

_God knows what would happen if my father found out_, Quinn muses as she makes her way up to the second row of seats.

As she sits down Finn elbows her lightly in the side. 'It's really cool of you to, you know, act like nothing happened and throw a party like this.' He smiles friendly at her. 'It takes some balls—' He abruptly grows quiet. 'Well . . . you know what I mean.'

Quinn frowns. _No, I don't know what you mean_, she feels like screaming. _What party is it he's talking about? _But instead of asking those things—why can't she be as straightforward as Santana or Brittany? Why does she always have to sugarcoat or complicate everything—the only thing she can manage to get out of her mouth is, 'Wh, what?'

But before Finn's brain has time to register the question and send signals to his mouth to form words, Mr. Schuester steps into the choir room and claps his hands in an attempt to get the attention of the students.

'Good morning guys,' Schuester greats the student in the choir room. He is, not too surprisingly, dressed in one of his characteristic vests, pulled over a checkered shirt. 'I received a request from a group of you this morning,' he begins and walks into the center of the room. 'As a part of our theme for the week. Mercedes, Santana, Brittany, Sugar, are you ready?' The girls all nod in unison. 'Great! Then the stage is yours,' Schue says and backs away from the center floor. He walks over to the pews and takes a seat next to Rory, who's gotten back from his short trip to Ireland.

'But I thought the girls already had done their thing,' Finn says as he watches Mercedes and company walk down to the floor.

'Finn,' Rachel hisses from beside him. 'If you have not noticed _I _am still sitting here, next to you. And if you have not already forgotten, I am, as well, a _girl_.'

The boy crooks his neck slightly as if to duck from the short diva's sharp tongue and poisonous words. 'I didn't, I—' Finn begins but he is soon cut off.

'Rachel,' a soft voice says, it belongs to Blaine. 'It's okay, Rachel. Let's listen to Mercedes and the others, shall we?' Reluctantly Rachel drops the conversation with Finn and straightens her back. A bit shocked everyone else turns their attention to the four girls at the center of the floor. Well, everyone except Quinn. She is still trying to figure out what the heck Finn had said to her when she entered the room. Nothing made any sense . . .

More room for thoughts doesn't exist though, as the music soon begins to fill the room. The beat, well it could probably not get more eighties than this . . .

_Clock strikes upon the hour  
And the sun begins to fade  
Still enough time to figure out  
How to chase my blues away_

It never stops to amaze the group how much alike Mercedes and Whitney Huston sounds. Her voice—well, both of their voices—is truly breathtaking. Unbelievably powerful and strong.

_I've done alright up till now  
It's the light of day that shows me how  
And when the night falls the loneliness calls  
_

The second part of the first verse Mercedes sing a key higher than she did in the first part. She is building up the anticipation for the poppy and very well-known chorus. All this while Brittany is rocking the small stage with her incredible dancing.

_Oh I wanna dance with somebody  
I wanna feel the heat with somebody  
Yeah I wanna dance with somebody  
With somebody who loves me  
Oh I wanna dance with somebody  
I wanna feel the heat with somebody  
Yeah I wanna dance with somebody  
With somebody who loves me_

Both Santana and Sugar join in as backing vocals for the chorus, though Sugar is probably only miming. Thank God for that! Nevertheless, it does nothing to make the performance any less interesting and spectacular. If you listen closely you could even sense Brittany's voice there at times, even though her primary focus is dancing, and boy can she dance!

_I've been in love and lost my senses  
Spinning through the town  
Sooner or later the fever ends  
And I wind up feeling down  
I need a man who'll take a chance  
On a love that burns hot enough to last  
So when the night falls  
My lonely heart calls_

To everyone's surprise—even Mr. Schue's—Mercedes is not the one who sings the second verse. In fact Santana is. And she does it well, very well. She has probably never before done a number so . . . up-beat, but it suits her. At least this song suits her.

_Oh I wanna dance with somebody  
I wanna feel the heat with somebody  
Yeah I wanna dance with somebody  
With somebody who loves me  
Oh I wanna dance with somebody  
I wanna feel the heat  
Yeah I wanna dance with somebody  
With somebody who loves me_

The second chorus is pretty much like the first except Santana has the lead as Mercedes has taken a smaller role, swaying about in the background together with Sugar. It is a rare sight, very rare, but welcome.

_(Somebody who somebody who)  
Somebody who loves me  
(Somebody who somebody who)  
To hold me in his arms oh  
I need a man who'll take a chance  
On a love that burns hot enough to last  
So when the night falls  
My lonely heart calls.  
_

Back to usual again as Mercedes steps back into the center of the floor. Santana takes a backseat, together with Sugar. For the last chorus Mercedes stretches out her hand towards Santana and pulls the girl into the center of the room. The center of attention.

As they have so many times before, the other kids in Glee Club along with Mr. Schuester is stunned by how incredibly wonderful the two girls sound together.

Mr. Schue catches himself thinking that if these two girls ever decide to give themselves—as a duo—a shot out in the real world, they would definitely make it, big time!

_Ohhhh, ohhhh  
Come on baby, haha  
Yea  
Now get with this_

The girls all break out into some funky eighties dance that soon has most of the kids moving their bodies, in their seats, to the beat.

_Don't you wanna dance  
with me baby?  
Don't you wanna dance  
with me boy?  
Don't you wanna dance  
with me baby?_

Mr. Schue cannot help but smile as the girls totally rock the stage. Not for the first time during these three years he finds himself thinking, '_They have come so, so far. I couldn't be more proud of them!'_

_With somebody who loves me.  
Don't you wanna dance say you wanna dance  
Don't you wanna dance?  
Don't you wanna dance say you wanna dance  
Don't you wanna dance?  
Don't you wanna dance say you wanna dance?_

_Uh huh. With somebody who loves me_

The girls end the performance on a line, all holding hands, while their fellow Glee Club teammates clap their hands and whistles.

'Whoa, girls!' Mr. Schue exclaims as he gets up from his seat. He is still clapping his hands. 'I am—_wow!_ This was _amazing_! I am so proud of you. All of you!' He takes a moment to breathe before he continues. 'I often catch myself thinking it, but I rarely say it to you . . .'

'What, Mr. Schue?' Mercedes asks.

He smiles. 'You have come so far, all of you! Do you remember the first day we all met here? What a bunch of confused souls we were.' He chuckles. A few of the kids nods and some of them smirks as they look back on when they first met. They had been an odd group of people, for sure. 'With that, I want to wish you all a good weekend!' Mr. Schue says. 'Make sure to have fun and remember to sing a lot,' he winks and heads for the door.

'Why such haste?' Rachel queers as their coach is just about to leave.

'Well . . .' Schue begins, then his lips breaks out into a smile. 'I have a date.'

'Be nice to Ms. P!' Puck calls and winks before he grabs his bag and begins to make his way to the door too. Halfway down the stand he stops and leans in to the blonde who is fiddling with the strap of her shoulder bag. 'You want me to get the booze?'

Flinching, she accidently drops her bag on the floor. 'Wh, what?' she asks for the second time during this one hour class.

Puck reaches down and picks up her bag. 'Whoa,' he says. 'Heavy. What the hell are you hiding in here? Rocks?' He smiles deviously.

'No, stupid,' she says and snatches the bag back.

'You're welcome, by the way.'

She rolls her eyes, though she cannot help but appreciate his somewhat sweet manners. He might be known as the residential bad boy, but to her, he will always be a lot more than just a bad boy. There is a lot more about him than just a cocky attitude and a ridiculously ripped body. He is a sweet guy, caring and understanding, even though he doesn't give the appearance of a gentleman.

'About the drinks, give me a call if you need help,' he says and leaves her. Yet again she missed out on her chance at asking what the hell is going on. What party?

Quinn glances around the room, seeking out a person to interrogate. Her eyes soon lands on her former Cheerios teammate Santana. Nothing passes that girl without her notice. Quinn quickly walks up to the Latina. 'Santana,' she says in a sweet yet firm tone, letting the queen of venomous comments know that she won't accept any explanations or bad jokes. 'Why don't you take a walk with me?'

'Q. What gives me the honor?' Santana queers teasingly as she watches the others leave the choir room.

'Cut the crap, Santana!' Quinn says and steps in front of her friend. 'What party is it everybody's talking about? Why the heck is Puck asking me if he should get me alcohol?' She crosses her arms over her chest.

Santana tilts her head to the side. 'Well, we all know that Rachel is pretty lame until she gets some alcohol in her system—'

'Santana!'

The Latina shrugs. 'What?'

'What is going on?'

Just as Santana is about to open her mouth Finn walks back into the choir room. 'Sorry I forgot my bag,' he excuses himself.

'Just make it quick, Frankenteen,' Santana sighs.

The quarterback mumbles something under his breath. Quinn guesses that it has something to do with Santana's nickname for him. He grabs his back but trips over a chair as he is about to leave. The stool falls over with a great rattle. 'Sorry!' he exclaims and puts the chair back. Then he walks for the door. In the doorway, though, he turns around. 'See you tonight by the way! 8 P.M. right?'

Quinn is just about to ask what he's talking about when Santana drowns her with her, 'Yep, see you there. 8. P.M..' Finn leaves and Quinn turns to Santana. 'What?' the Latina asks annoyed.

'Don't tell me you're throwing a party at my place,' Quinn says. Santana shrugs and Quinn rolls her eyes. 'Why?' she doesn't have the cope to be angry at her friend, not now. Things are bad as it is.

'You need to loosen up, Q. It will be fun, trust me!'

The blonde slowly shakes her head. 'Don't ask me to trust you. That's just what Puck said and look what that led to . . .' Quinn says, referring to her unexpected pregnancy almost two years ago.

'Well, I won't get you preggo, hon. Need certain package to do that, you know. But trust me, it'll be fun.'

Quinn rolls her eyes. 'If anything goes wrong, I mean anything, you'll have to work your ass off to make it right again. You read me?'

'Loud and clear, mama.'

'Stop calling me that!'

'Make me!' Santana teases.

* * *

As the others begins to stroll out of the room in which she has English, Mercedes drags a deep breath, then she blows the air out again and licks her lips.

_It's the right thing to do_, she tries to convince herself.

She hustles out through the door and walks up to the blonde boy who is hovering outside, probably waiting for her. He smiles sweetly as she comes up to him. 'Hey,' he mumbles quietly.

'Sam, we need to talk,' Mercedes says slowly. The blonde boy nods and then drops his stare to the floor. 'The auditorium, three o clock?'

'3 P.M.,' he mumbles and Mercedes cannot help but to think that he might already know what she wants to talk to him about. It right about breaks her heart.

'Good.' She nods. 'See you there.' Then she leaves him whilst still repeating the line, _It's the right thing to do, _like a mantra quietly to herself.

Time has never before gone by so terribly slow as it is this afternoon. As much as she is dreading for what to come—for what she has to do—she just wants it over with. What she wants is for things to go back the way they were. She wants her friends back.

She sighs heavily and prays a silent pray for God to give her courage to not back down. _Amen._

She pushes the robust wooden doors open to great auditorium. It is completely quiet and a little bit creepy, Mercedes notes. She is used to all the spotlights being turned on, music blasting and a crowd—if only a small one consisting of her fellow Glee Clubbers—to be present while she is there.

Only the light at the back entrance are lit and it is creating a dusky glim over the great hall. 'Hey,' she says as she finds him sitting at the edge of the stage. He is lazily flipping a pencil from finger to finger.

'Hey,' he responds absentmindedly as she walks up to him.

'Look, Sam,' Mercedes says and glances down at her shoes, nervousness and insecurity being unfamiliar feelings. 'I like you. I really do . . . But,' she grows quiet as she thinks back of the past few weeks and then at when she first met this blonde and genuine boy. 'What you've done, to woo me . . . It's cute. And I love it. But it's not right.' She pauses and looks at him. 'The person you have tried to become, for me, it is not you.'

He looks away. He has by long time ago already put the pencil back into his Levi's pocket. She can see that he is hurting. He has worked so hard to please her and now all that effort will be in vain. 'I can't be with you, Sam. You are my _best _friend and I want to keep it like that. You know that,' she says quietly, as if thinking that the lower she speaks the less the words will hurt.

'What did I do wrong 'Cedes?' he asks in a sad voice.

Mercedes slowly shakes her head. 'You did everything right,' she mumbles, 'except following _your_ _own_ heart.' The last sentence said in an almost incoherent voice.

'Then—'

'I broke up with Shane, but I am not ready to be in a relationship yet. I need time to myself, Sam,' she gazes right into his green eyes. 'You and I, we were never meant to be. Just . . . face it.'

'But what happened in here, in the auditorium. When we sang . . . we kissed!'

'It didn't mean anything,' she says and he looks away. _That didn't come out right, _she damns herself_. _'Please, Sam. Look at me. I love you, as my best friend. You are one out of a few I can truly trust.'

She can see that he is trying to put all the pieces together. After all this is not the first time he has had his heart ripped out and stomped on by a girl that he thought he could trust. _The poor boy must be thinking it is all because of him. That Quinn cheated because he wasn't good enough for her and that I don't want him because of the same reasons._

'Sam,' she says, 'see this as a chance. Follow _your_ heart. It's not too late.'

'What do you mean?' he asks as he starts to sober.

She flickers her eyes to the side thinking about how to put the words. 'One reason why _we _would never work out is because you don't love me.'

'You are wrong, Mercedes. I love you,' protests Sam.

The raven haired diva shakes her head. 'No, Sam. You _think_ you love me. But I know better.' She smiles wryly.

'But—'

She holds up a warning finger. 'No buts, sweetie. I know that when you don't look at me you are looking at _her_. So words from the wise, tips from a pro: don't let her get away this time,' she says and then she leaves him alone in the big auditorium.

* * *

Author's note

Sorry about the long wait, but I've been busy with school.

Anyways, the song featured in this chapter, as most of you probably know already, was Whitney Huston's _I Wanna Dance with Somebody_. I try to use songs that haven't been featured in the show, but as you all know _I Wanna Dance with Somebody _was sung by Brittany and Santana in Season 3. But, in excuse, I can inform you that I actually wrote this chapter before that episode aired ;)

Just like one of the previous chapters, this one will be broken down into three or four parts. This is part I, Part II will hopefully be up within a few days :)

Hope you liked this chapter and please don't forget to review! :)


	14. Make up

Not Making the Same Mistake Again

Summary: Less than four months remain of the school year, for some students it's the last four months at William McKinley High. Therefore it's natural for the kids to want to make the best of the remaining time. However, a lot of things can go wrong in sixteen weeks . . .

Rated Teen for language primarily. There may be some spoilers for the two first seasons of the show as well as the third up until somewhere short after the episode _Hold on to Sixteen_.

I hope you will enjoy reading this multi-character fanfiction as much as I have enjoyed writing it!

I apologize in advance for any incorrect grammar or typo that may occur.

Reviews are very welcome.

Disclaimer: I do_not_ own _Glee_ nor do I own any of its characters. The same goes for anything involving the music mentioned.

End of author's note. Now on to the story!

* * *

_Chapter 14 – Make up_

[FRIDAY – part II]

'Is this really a good idea?' Quinn queers nervously. She allows her eyes to swift over the people—all of them familiar faces—gathered in her backyard. Santana turns her head a bit but never lets her gaze off of the pool in which a couple of their Glee Club friends are splashing around. There is one blonde in particular that the Latina girl cannot take her eyes off of. 'Of course it is. It was my idea.'

Quinn sighs quietly, hoping that her friend is right. Because if she's not and anything goes wrong tonight, Quinn is pretty sure that she won't be able to show her face in school on Monday, if ever again.

When noticing the Quinn's furrowed Santana offers a wry, but sincere smile and exhorts, 'Relax, Q!'

The blonde girl lets out another quiet sigh. _I wish I could._

'Listen here,' Santana says and wraps and arm, the color of milky chocolate, around her friend's shoulders. 'It's all under control.' She stares directly into Quinn's hazel orbs. 'Now. Try to loosen up.' Slowly leveling her eyes to meet Santana's, Quinn drags one deep breath and then she nods. 'There you go!' Santana cheers and pinches Quinn's right arm.

'Ouch!' the blonde winces. Ignoring Quinn's "ouch" Santana just smiles and leaves. Quinn watches the Latina girl walk over to the pool where Brittany and Tina are babbling on about some movie they both saw on TV last night. From what few words Quinn can make out Tina thought the film was pretty okay while Brittany can't get her head around the ending. Not a very big surprise . . .

Letting her gaze wander around the patio Quinn notices that almost everyone from Glee Club is present already, only lacking Mercedes, Sam and Rory. Of those three she knows that Rory won't be arriving – he "had something important to do", he had said, plans he had made up a while back. Quinn cannot imagine what those plans could be though since she has never heard him talk about having friends outside Glee Club. But maybe the family he is staying with is having some kind of family night, eating extra nice food and playing old board games together.

Everybody that's present seems to be enjoying themselves though. _That's a good thing_, Quinn notes.

Brittany, Tina and Santana are engaged in a deep discussion involving films, hot actors and abs while the boys—Finn, Mike, Artie, Blaine and Kurt—are discussing football.

Quinn cannot help but to wonder how much Kurt actually relish the "guy-talk", but at least he looks kind of amused. Still she cannot let the thought escape that the boy would probably prefer talking about movies and steamy actors with the girls.

Speaking of girls . . . where's Rachel? The eccentric little diva scarcely ever leaves her boyfriend Finn's side, but right about now, she is nowhere to be seen.

_Well, I better get going. Those drinks won't walk themselves out here any minute._ Quinn points out to herself and turns on her heal.

She heads into the spacious kitchen and starts to picks out glasses from the cabinet right above the sink. But in mid-movement she changes her mind and puts the glasses that she has already put on the counter back into the cabinet. After closing the cream colored cabinet door she bends down and opens the doors to the counter instead. At the rear back—in the dark—she finds a stack of red plastic cups. After having placed them on the counter top she moves over to the fridge and pulls out two carafes of punch – and not the kind that Kurt served them last week. She pours the pinkish liquid into the cups and drops three cubes of ice in each and every one of them. Then she starts to place the cups on two silver trays.

She doesn't hear the footsteps that lead up to her from behind until the person is standing right behind her peering over her shoulder.

A startled Quinn almost knocks one of the cups over as she jumps a good five inches up into the air as she becomes aware of the little spy.

'Oh! Sorry Quinn! I didn't mean to scare you!' Rachel assures as she reaches for a paper towel to help mop up the punch that spilled over from the carafe when Quinn jerked.

'It's okay,' Quinn mumbles and kneels down besides the dark haired girl. 'I should have noticed you.'

'You seemed pretty far off,' the short diva points out as she wipes up the last of the drink. She offers a small smile.

Quinn stands up and straightens her back. 'I, I was just thinking about . . . uh, how I would get all of these out. Yeah.' She motions towards the two trays. Rachel nods slowly, not entirely sure she is buying the blondes explanation, but neither is she in a mood to start an argument in order to find out the true cause of the pretty girl's unusual mental absence. So instead of dwelling it over further, she offers to help Quinn carry the trays to the backyard.

The former head Cheerio gladly accepts the offer and hands one of the silver trays to Rachel. The other one she picks up herself and then the two of them walk out to the patio.

When handing out the glasses Quinn realizes that another soul has decided to join the party. Mercedes Jones. Upon seeing the black diva Quinn's heart drops, she has not expected the girl to come, especially not after what happened earlier this week. When seeing Mercedes turn in Quinn's direction, she automatically prepares herself for a heated argument, even a cat fight.

Since Quinn found out that Mercedes was the one who snapped the infamous photograph of Mr. Eaton and her, the black girl has been successfully avoiding her. Not even have they come across each other in the hall heading to and from classes. Glee Club being the only place where Quinn has even seen Mercedes, but then the girl had been careful not to look at Quinn, afraid of accidently making eye contact. But since Quinn has skipped all of her Glee classes this week except from one, Mercedes hasn't had much problem avoiding her.

Now, on the other hand, the black girl is walking straight towards Quinn. Her eyes still not making eye contact, but at the same time they're not staring at the floor like they had last time in Glee Club.

Rachel catches a glimpse of Mercedes heading their way and discretely backs away and out of earshot. She grabs two red plastic cups from the tray and walks with swift steps over to Finn and the boys, handing the tall dark haired boy one of the red cups.

As Mercedes approaches, Quinn can feel a cold shiver travel along her spine. _Didn't Santana promise me everything would go fine? _This_ is not my definition of fine . . ._

When Mercedes is within touching range Quinn picks up a cup of punch and extends the hand holding it towards Mercedes. She tries to smiles, but soon gets the sense that she didn't succeed to pull it off. Mercedes slowly shakes her head and says in a low voice, barely higher that a whisper, 'We need to talk.'

Putting the red cup back down on the tray Quinn nods slowly. _Crap, crap, carp!_

'Could we?' Mercedes begins quietly, motioning with her head towards the open patio door. Quinn, feeling her throat clenching together and her mouth going dry manages noting but a weak nod.

Leading the way into the great house Quinn prays to God that this will be quick. She has had enough drama for weeks to come, hell, years. She strolls into the kitchen, stops and turns around first when she hears Mercedes closing the kitchen door behind them.

Standing face to face like this, with nowhere to run, is one of the most terrifying things Quinn has ever done. Sure finding out she was pregnant and being kicked out of the house were very scary things to go through, especially when she was only an insecure teenager, a child in praxis. Over and over again losing the boy she loves, being cheated on and betrayed by him are scary too, but this is another level of fear and discomfort. Mercedes used to be her friend, at one point her only friend, someone she could trust. Quinn used to be able to see part and bits of herself in the curvy girl, both strengths and vulnerabilities. Losing someone that means so much to you is hard. Sometimes harder than losing yourself.

Quinn shivers from the oppressing ache in her chest and the painful memories that are flashing before her eyes.

Mercedes sighs loudly. 'What happened to us?' she asks sadly. There is a plea in her eyes and her voice that Quinn has never before seen or heard. The blonde swallows hard, but doesn't manage to push away the lump in her throat. Mercedes continues. 'We used to be friends.'

Quinn lowers her gaze, the toes of her ballerina flats seeming much more interesting to look at. At least they are not staring back at her with sad dark eyes. 'Quinn?' the African American girl tries.

Quinn swallows again. Trying once more to get rid of the growing lump of tears caught in her throat. 'Why did you do it?' she manages after a moment, though her voice is not much stronger than a whisper. Mercedes drops her gaze to the floor. Quinn shakes her head in disappointment and hurt. 'I know I haven't always treated you right. I have looked pass you and refused to see you for who you are . . . I am not proud of that.' Quinn inhales raggedly. 'But I have _never_ intentionally tried to hurt you.' There is moist pulling up at the edges of her hazel eyes. 'And I . . . I know that I could have been—no, should have been—more supportive of you and maybe . . . maybe of your relationship with . . .' _Sam_, 'him.' She swallows hard, fighting to hold the tears back.

Mercedes stands quiet, still staring at her feet.

'And I'm sorry that I haven't . . . But that is no reason for you—' Quinn shifts her eyes to the side and blinks a couple of times as he voice cracks. 'I loved you, Mercedes. You mattered to me,' she says after a short moment, her sweet voice once again under control.

Mercedes stands petrified. She is staring at her shoes completely terrified that if she looks up, even just a quick glance, and she meets Quinn's eyes, she might not be able to control herself. Whatever the feelings are that she will generate _when_ and _if_ that happens, she is afraid that will not make this situation any easier.

Quinn bites down on her lip. _Ain't she going to say anything?_ _I need you to say something, Mercedes. Do something!_ Her nerves are about as tense as the strings on a newly tuned guitar.

Mercedes hesitantly shifts her weight from one leg to another. 'Look,' she says after a long moment of pondering, 'I didn't mean for any of this to happen.'

_Then explain the darn photograph that is circling around the school!_ Quinn points out to her inner self.

'What I did was stupid, hell, downright evil. And it kills me to know that, that what has happened to you the last couple of days is my fault. I never meant for it to get out . . .'

Quinn slowly shakes her head again. 'Then why did you take them?'

The tanned diva swallows hard. _What am I supposed to say to the girl? That I was jealous? That I was pissed because I could see _him_ slipping away from me, drifting towards her? _She sighs loudly. 'I, I was mad with you, Quinn. I was . . . green-eyed.' Mercedes closes her eyes for a second or two, as if she is trying to build strength to tell the rest of the truth. 'When I saw you with Mr. Eaton that day . . . something just boiled over. The way you've been treating him – it wasn't fair! He always loved _you_! Everybody knows that . . . I simply couldn't stand seeing you break his heart again. I had to prevent it . . .' She finally looks up and into Quinn's eyes. 'I am so sorry.'

Quinn blinks a couple of times. She is pretty sure that what she just heard was an apology from Mercedes Jones but she cannot quite put together what the black girl was trying to say. There were too many things that didn't make any sense. She hadn't done anything to hurt Mr. Eaton, let alone break his heat. Well, unless Mercedes wasn't talking about the English teacher at all . . .

Mercedes stands completely still. What she feels now is what she believes a participant in a talent show feels when she is standing in front of the jury, waiting for their final call. Will she pass or will she get dismissed?

Quinn opens her mouth to speak only to find herself closing it again a split second later. _Quinn, please,_ she pleads to herself_._

But to Quinn's relief she doesn't have to wage this mental war much longer before Mercedes gathers courage to speak up. 'I know you probably hate me right now, and you have all rights to. But please,' she holds Quinn's eyes. 'Please let us be friends again . . . I miss you.'

The heartbreak in the black girl's voice and the sadness and the plea in her deep dark eyes right about shatter Quinn's already broken heart. She can no longer hold the tears back as she tumbles into the other girl's arm.

'I've missed you too,' Quinn sobs against Mercedes' shoulder, as she clings tight to the girl.

* * *

As he has expected the party is at full swing when he arrives. Usually, getting to a fest two hours after its starting time, means the party is on already. He had at first not planned on going to the party, the reasons being both many and complicated, but after finishing his shift, as a local pizza delivery boy, early, he had changed his mind, thinking _What the fuck? Why's this gonna stop me from having fun with my friends._

Loafing in through the gate in the fence at the left side of the house, he casts an eye at the first window he passes. _Yep, looking good._ He runs a hand through his blonde hair. It's time to work up some mojo, some serious confidence.

The first face he sees is the one of Artie Abrams. The wheelchair bound boy is sitting in his chair by a table nursing a glass of what looks like some sweet punch or maybe ginger ale. 'What's up, dude?' Sam says cheerfully as he approaches the boy with the glasses.

Artie looks genuinely surprised as he greets the blonde boy with, 'Sam! Are you here?' Sam teasingly reaches out and pinches Artie's right arm. 'Ouch!'

'Yep, it sure looks like I'm here, man.' He smiles a toothy smile. A perfect one.

'I didn't think you would come, considering . . .' Artie's words dies out and he rubs the spot of his arm where Sam just nudged him.

Sam musters another smile, despite feeling the comment that Artie just dropped nagging at his soul. _Come on! Dude, get over that already!_ He orders himself. _She and you – over._

'Well, well, well . . . Look who's finally managed to pull his homeless ass over here!' Puckerman says as he walks up to Sam and Artie.

_Jerk!_ Had the remark come from someone other than Puck, the residential bad boy, would the boy have had to use a broom and a dustpan to collect his kicked-out teeth.

'Puckerman! It is always as wonderful to see your pretty little lady face,' Sam beams and Puck grimaces.

'At least I've got a place to live and make love to all of those _pretty ladies_ out there, in contrast to you.'

The blonde grins sarcastically. _A real poetic, this Noah Puckerman . . ._ 'Hey, dude, just for the record I'm not homeless, anymore. And besides that, girls _love_ men that have had to fight for . . . Hey are you listening?'

Puck lost his interest in Sam's short speech somewhere about when the blonde boy first opened his humungous mouth, but it wasn't until he caught eye of the pretty girl exiting the house he grew completely unaware of Sam's presence.

'What the hell are you doing man?' Sam queers teasingly and stares at Puck, who is mouth agape eyeballing something over Sam's shoulder. 'You're basically drooling.'

The boy with the Mohawk blinks a couple of times, as if he just woke up and has no idea where he is, then he pulls slightly at Sam's arm, motioning for him to turn around. Reluctantly the not so tall, blonde boy does as his friend has requested him to and he turns around with an eyebrow skeptically raised, expecting to see Finn making a fool of himself on the dance floor or maybe Brittany getting undressed in the pool. None of those would be a first timer.

What he sees instead is way beyond his expectations, let alone his aspirations.

_Oh man!_ He can feel his knees beginning to give away under him.

* * *

Having dried her face from all tears and smeared make-up Quinn checks herself out one more time in the mirror, before she decides that she is ready to go back downstairs again.

After the confrontation with, and reconciliation between, Mercedes and herself, Quinn had retreated, up to her bedroom, both to calm herself down but also to clean herself up. Mercedes on the other hand had decided to go home. "I had never planned on staying the whole evening", she had said. The only reason she had come at all was to make up with Quinn. And when that was done and over with she had just wanted to go back home and think things through.

Happy that the dispute between Mercedes and her had been cleared, Quinn had waved the tanned girl goodbye with a smile on her face. An honest and eased smile.

Standing in her bedroom now, dressed in her new red and white striped bandeau bikini without shoulder straps, Quinn feels more at ease than she has in a long time. She grabs the dress that is lying on her bed, practically begging her to be put on, and steps into it and pulls it up. It fits her body perfectly, like close to everything else she has ever tried on.

She casts one last glance at herself in the mirror—and this time it really is the final one—before she opens her bedroom door and leaves.

While walking down the stairs she realizes that the party has been turned up a few notches. The music is louder now than it had been when Quinn had said her farewell to Mercedes and escaped up to her room. Also, the patio has, much to Quinn's delight, turned into a dance floor, where Mike and Tina, Rachel and Finn, Santana and Brittany are enjoying themselves greatly while dancing wildly to Jennifer Lopez and Pitbull's _On the Floor_.

Quinn smiles despite herself. _Maybe Santana was right._

As she exits the living room, stepping out on the patio, she becomes aware that the party has become one teen richer. She first spots his silky blonde hair moving slightly in the wind as he stands by the outdoor table talking to Artie and Puck, his back against her.

Suddenly, as if ordered to, the blonde boy turns around. There is a weird expression on his face though, the look of doubt and mockery. As soon as he sees her though, his features softens and his confoundedly parted lips curl up at the ends into an adorable boyish half smirk.

_Oh God, that smile!_ Quinn feels her heart screaming, but she abruptly feeds it the "it's just an illusion of your broken mind"-speach. _It's just an act, Quinn._

Despite the disagreement between her heart and her mind, she musters a polite closed mouth half smile and proceeds to walk towards them.

* * *

'Dude, stop staring,' he hears Puck whisper into his ear.

_Yeah, _that_ comes from the right person. A split second ago I could have propped a bird's nest into your open mouth without your notice, _Sam thinks as he snaps back to reality.

'You'll creep her out.'

_Thank you, Puckerman. _He shots the Jewish boy a look of vexation.

Puck shrugs, apparently he has recovered from the petrifaction he suffered from mere seconds ago. 'Just saying, bro. We could fill the pool with your drool. Ha! That rhymed!'

'Shut it, Puckerman!' Sam snaps back, in a firm but somewhat trembling tone. Puck snickers, amused over the fact that he is not the only one who loses it when _she_ walks into the room . . . Or out from the room, in this case . . .

'She's coming our way, Lady Lips. Try to not make a complete fool out of yourself, will ya.' Puck smirks mockingly and bumps his shoulder into Sam's, causing the blonde to almost fall over Artie and his wheelchair. Sam sends his fellow Glee Clubber a murderous look.

'Hi Quinn!' Artie says, hoping that he accosting her first will prevent any embarrassing first lines from Puck or Sam. Unfortunately though, the plan doesn't work.

'Hello, Hot Mama!' Puck says and winks at Quinn, causing her to roll her eyes dramatically.

'Seriously, Puck? Grow up!' she mutters. The boy with the Mohawk smiles broadly. 'Artie . . . Sam,' she says and nods towards the other two boys. She has already said "Hi" to Artie, but somehow she feels a strong urge to greet him welcome again.

Being a smart kid, Artie immediately figures out why Quinn is acting the way she is. Therefore he chooses not to comment on the fact that he has been at the party for almost two hours now and that they have already spent half an hour talking to each other. So instead he presses out a smothered, 'The party's awesome,' before he turns his attention back to his plastic cup filled to the half with punch, and his newly grilled burger.

'Yeah, really cool, Q,' Puck chimes in and nods in the direction of the dancing party guests. Quinn nods and again she makes a mental note to later thank Santana. 'Hey, what about some punch for Big Mouth here?' Puck suggests and points to his own glass and then to Sam.

_One day, Puckerman, you'll pay for _your_ big mouth. _The blonde boy sighs inwardly. 'You don't have to . . .' he starts, suddenly feeling an eminent urge to have her within the range of his vision.

She shakes her head slowly. 'No, it's, it's okay. I think the carafes out here are empty, but I've got more mixed and ready in the kitchen. I will go get you a glass,' she says and turns around. With mixed feelings of relief and heartache she heads back into the house. Sam watches her walk up the two steps to the patio door. Her hips swaying gallantly as she floats back inside.

'That ass's awesome, man. Like _the _best. But you've gotta stop staring at her like that,' Puck murmurs from behind him. 'Words from the wise. Tips from a pro, you know. Ha, that rhymed again! I'm freakin' awesome!' Then he leaves with his red plastic cup in hand. He strolls over to the dance floor where he picks up Santana and involves her in a daring and sensual dance, much to the raven haired girls amuse, even though most of the hormone fueled youngsters at the party is either fully or partially aware of her sexual orientation.

Sam sighs heavily. _Sometimes I wish God could have given me the gift of speech instead of . . . _ He unconsciously brushes his hand over his cotton sweater clad torso, his fingers gently sliding over the ridges and valleys of his perspicuous abs. _Or maybe not. _A cocky smirk tugs at his lips.

As Quinn comes back out from the house again, this time with two red plastic cups of pink punch, he smiles despite himself. _She looks . . . amazing._

She smiles as she hands him one of the cups. 'Here you go.'

'Red Solo Cup,' he says and raises the glass. 'Cheers.'

Her face changes and she puts on a feature of confusion and surprise. Suddenly she realizes why she had felt the need to switch the champagne glasses for the red plastic cups. _What a wimp you are, Lucy Quinn Fabray._Upon seeing Sam noticing her change of expression, she smiles exculpatory. _Don't blow this!_ 'What are we cheering for?' she asks as she raises her cup to his.

_Brain freeze._ 'Uh . . .' _Come one, dude. Think of something. _He smiles goofily. _Fast. _'Senior year,' he finally says. 'Your senior year.'

She giggles softly when their cups clink together. 'To senior year!'

'To senior year,' he mumbles in a whisper right before he takes a first sip of the pink liquid. Glancing at her over the rim of the plastic cup, he can see that she looks a lot happier than she had earlier today when he had spotted her in the hallway at school.

'What?' she asks with a girly smile. Her eyes are shimmering in the light of the lit candles and the porch light. Sam wrinkles his forehead, knitting his brows together. His innocent expression causes her to giggle and him to frown even more. 'What are you thinking about?' she queers softly while looking straight at him.

'Lor menari,' he mumbles in a voice not much louder that a whisper. Then he feels his heart skip a beat, he quickly takes another gulp at the drink. _You can't do that, dude. Not cool. You can't just walk around telling girls they have pretty eyes, just because they offer you a damn drink. _He can feel his cheeks turning an embarrassing scarlet shade. _She _is_ beautiful though._

At first she thought she had just imagined everything, but now, judging by his sudden change of color and his reluctance to look her in the eyes, she is beginning to question herself and what she heard. _Did he just . . . it was the first time . . ._ She shakes her head slowly and forces the thoughts away.

Noticing the rather terrified expression in her beautiful caramel eyes Sam quickly looks around. He is searching for somewhere to escape to, not physically but mentally. Registering that close to everybody is dancing he does the one thing he had never though he would do again. Putting down his plastic cup and taking a step closer to her, he prays for the all mighty that he won't screw up. He extends a hand towards her, smiling invitingly. 'May I?'

Surprised by his quick step towards her she winces, but as she notes his extended hand and the gentle look in his eye, she relaxes and accepts his hand.

Her hand in his, his arm around her waist, they move gracefully to the beat pumping from the iPod docking station. At first he is too nervous and distracted to pay attention to which tune is actually playing. When he finds out though, he cannot help but to smile. She glances at him suspiciously. 'What is it?'

'Nothing,' his answer comes, his eyes still smiling. Quinn grimaces and sniffs, making it obvious to him that she think he is acting strange. A grimace he has grown to love. And with that he quietly starts to sing.

_Is it the look in your eyes,_

_Or is it this dancing juice?_

_Who cares baby,_

_I think I wanna marry you._

Feeling Quinn's body tensing under his touch he knows that she remembers the song. But more importantly he knows that she is aware of what part comes next. The one verse they sung, together, dancing down the aisle hand in hand. It had been he allows himself to admit here and now, one of the best moments of his life.

Sam is genuinely surprised when he hears her soft, almost nasal, voice singing the next lines with him.

_Well I know this little chapel on the boulevard we can go,_

_No one will know,_

_Come on girl._

_Who cares if we're trashed got a pocket full of cash we can blow,_

_Shots of patron,_

_And it's on girl._

As they sung the line '_Who cares if we're trashed . . .' _he let go of her waist and spun her like he had done in church that day. The unexpected spin in the middle of the verse almost made Quinn giggle and come in late for the bridge.

_Don't say no, no, no, no-no;_

_Just day yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah-yeah;_

_And we'll go, go, go, go-go._

_If you're ready, like I'm ready._

Sam smiles despite himself, he hasn't seen her happy like this in a very long time. He pulls her back to him, wrapping his arm back around her waist, tipping her over to the side. She giggles heartedly. And there it is again, that spark in her eye.

_Cause it's a beautiful night,_

_We're looking for something dumb to do._

_Hey baby,_

_I think I wanna marry you._

As the others, one after one, becomes aware of the song that is being played, it holding a certain place in all of their hearts, they tune in for the remaining of the chorus.

_Is it the look in your eyes'_

_Or is it this dancing juice?_

_Who cares baby,_

_I think I wanna marry you._

Reaching the second verse Sam leans in closer to Quinn, placing his forehead only inches from hers, subconsciously he sings the lyrics directly to her.

_I'll go get a ring let the choir bells sing like oooh,_

_So whatcha wanna do?_

_Let's just run girl. _

Much to Sam's amuse Quinn takes tone and smilingly sings the following two sentences of the verse, only to let her voice die out before the last one which Sam sings out loud.

_If we wake up and you wanna break up that's cool._

_No, I won't blame you;_

_It was fun girl._

Taking the lead again, Sam cannot help but to smile. The joy in her green mélange eyes; it's the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

_Don't say no. no, no, no-no;_

_Just say yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah-yeah;_

_And we'll go, go, go, go-go._

_If you're ready, like I'm ready._

Once again the other Glee Clubbers join in for the chorus, singing it out at the top of their lungs. Together they form the most amazing choir.

To be honest Sam isn't sure whether the others have been singing during—though quietly—the whole song, or if they are just joining in for the chorus. Nevertheless it is beautiful and extremely funny.

He spins Quinn around and pulls her back into his arms, his eyes smiling in that characteristic way of his.

_Cause it's a beautiful night,_

_We're looking for something dumb to do._

_Hey baby,_

_I think I wanna marry you._

_Is it the look in your eyes'_

_Or is it this dancing juice?_

_Who cares baby,_

_I think I wanna marry you._

Singing the bridge a key higher, he cannot stop smiling. His cheeks are hurting like hell from the crazy smiling and he bets he must look like a complete idiot. But as the man, Bruno Mars himself, would say "who cares baby?".

_Just say I do,_

_Tell me right now baby,_

_Tell me right now baby._

_Just say I do,_

_Tell me right now baby,_

_Tell me right now baby._

Watching Quinn dance and sing in his arms. Her lovely hazel eyes locked with his green ones, makes his heart skip a beat every now and then. Speeding its rhythm up and slowing it down at the same time. It does things to him, things that are beyond his control and even understanding.

_Cause it's a beautiful night,_

_We're looking for something dumb to do._

_Hey baby,_

_I think I wanna marry you._

_Is it the look in your eyes'_

_Or is it this dancing juice?_

_Who cares baby,_

_I think I wanna marry you._

They end the song singing the last sentences quietly, forehead to forehead, dancing at a slow pace. Both his arms are wrapped around her waist, keeping her warm body close to his. One of her hands is gently gripping his bicep and the other has its fingers intertwined with the blonde locks at neck. And every time her slender body accidentally brushes against his it sends electric impulses down to his lower abdomen, and causes his knees to soften, and his breathing to become ragged.

As the last bells ring, Quinn giggles and squirms out of his arms. He can see that her cheeks have taken on an abashed crimson. He isn't sure though whether it has to do with them dancing or the fact that it is less than sixty degrees Fahrenheit in the air.

Keeping her eyes on the ground between them, she smiles shyly and excuses herself, exclaiming that she needs to get some more burgers and breads from the kitchen. Then she leaves him with hurried steps.

Smitten by the heat of the dance they just shared and a little astonished by her sudden urge rush off he stands quietly where she left him.

'You should seriously consider investing in a pair of not so tight jeans,' he hears the voice of Santana from right beside him. She is half-whispering into his ear and he can even hear the smirk in her voice. Abashed and a little taken aback by her statement Sam peers down on his middle section and notices a not so flattering and definitely inappropriate bulge there. Santana chuckles beside him. 'Looks like someone needs to cool off a little . . . Lucky you this is a pool party.' She winces at him and slides a finger along his collar bone before she parts off and heads back to wherever she came from.

Closing his eyes and wishing he could just dissolve and assemble somewhere else, he begins to pull his shirt off. _Santana is right. I cannot walk around here like . . . like this._ He drops his shirt on a nearby chair and starts unbuckling his belt. _But doing this . . . is it really a good idea, man? I mean, are you sure your boxers won't go all see-through, like the shirts of the girls that do Wet Shirt competition._

Fortunately Puck—of all people, Puck—saves him from the reflections. 'Going skinny dipping Evans?' he hollers before he rips off his shirt and pulls down his pants. Apparently Sam isn't the only one who didn't think of bringing swim trunks.

'You wish, Puckerman!' he says as he kicks off his denims. Puck is the first to hit the water, but not shortly after Sam follows him down into the pool. Their dives cause water to splash all over the tile closest to the pool, very unfortunately for one Rachel Berry. The short diva screams—a high-pitched one—as the water splashes all over her. From the view of the other kids, the situation looks very amusing and it generates a long row of laughter.

'Sorry, Rach!' Sam calls out from the pool and chuckles. The image is indeed entertaining.

'Sam, Puck!' Rachel screeches, her body shaking with rage.

'Chill out, Berry,' Puck sneers and splashes some more water over her.

'You, you . . .' she literally shakes with fume.

'Hey, Rach,' Finn says and walks up to Rachel. 'it's cool. Let's get into the water, too.'

She frantically shakes her head. 'No, _no_. I, for one, think it is a very bad idea. You shouldn't do it either, Finn,' she says in a firm tone.

'Rachel,' the tall boy pleads.

'No, Finn!' Rachel snaps. She is staring right into his eyes. Her jaw is clenched and her whole body is fixed in that rigid position she usually enters when she is pissed off.

Puck and Sam exchange a quick glance, both knowing that what they just did might have trashed the whole party. 'Look Rach,' begins Sam, 'I'm sorry. We didn't mean for you to get . . . all soaked.' A muffled snicker is heard but Sam is too afraid of Rachel's possible reaction to check who it came from. 'We, we didn't think.' _Gosh, you've got a way with words, dude . . . maybe next time you'll try using the word 'we' and 'didn't' a little bit more._

The short girl shoots him a sharp look, but says nothing to him.

'I am going inside to get changed. Try not to break something, Finn,' she tells—or rather mutters to—the tall boy and then she scurries into the Fabray house.

'Hey, dude, are you okay?' Sam asks Finn, who is standing mouth agape gazing at the spot where Rachel stood mere seconds ago. Sam and Finn have had their share of bumps and grinds—Finn making Quinn cheat being a major one—in their friendship, but never the less—even though Sam doesn't want to admit it—Finn was his first real friend at McKinley High. And for some unexplainable reason you seem to stick with those friends no matter what.

'Uh . . .' He clears his throat. 'I . . . uh, yeah.' He nods intensely and blinks a couple of times.

_Poor guy_, Sam thinks. _He is even more daft that Brittany. And that says a lot. _

'Come on, bro. Get into the pool!' Puck exhorts him. Then he turns to the others. 'You too!'

Finn looks around uncertain of what to do. Sam knows that if the tall boy doesn't do as his demanding girlfriend says she will be mad at him for a week and she will probably be giving him the silent treatment to go. And if he doesn't do as Puckerman wants, he will end up being the only one not goofing around in the pool. Puck has a great persuasion.

After a moment of contemplation Finn finally makes up his mind and pulls off his clothes. 'Good decision, bro,' Puck says as the brown haired boy enters the pool. Finn presses out a smothered and a bit nasal chuckle. Mike, Santana and Brittany are all quick to ditch their clothes and jump into the tempered water, while Tina, Artie and Kurt all decides to stay out of the water.

Kurt gets up from the chair where he has been seated for a while. 'I should go check on Rachel,' he says and heads into the house. In the doorway the slender boy meets Quinn, who is carrying a carafe of punch for refills. Sam can see that Kurt stops and whispers something into the blonde girl's ear before he enters the great house. Judging by the arc of her right eyebrow and the slightly concerned look in her eyes, he guesses that Kurt told her about Rachel's little misadventure.

'Hey, Q!' Sam can hear Puck call. 'Come on, join us!'

The ulterior motive of Puck's invitation is not hard to figure out, Sam notes and rolls his eyes. _He wants her to take off her clothes. But really, who can blame him?_ Sam shakes his head inwardly. _Stop it, man! You can't think like that. Not of _her_, you perv._

Quinn laughs heartedly and blushes a bit at Puck's suggestion.

'Oh, come on, girl!' Santana hollers, her arms are resting on the edge of the pool.

The blonde girl shakes her head modestly and giggles. 'It's cold. You'll all get sick,' she says.

'The pool's tempered, Q. You should know, since it's yours,' Santana pushes. 'Come on. Don't be a drag!'

Sam can see by the way Quinn's chest lifts and then drops that she is sighing. Even though she is one of the most popular girls at the school and she has been a Cheerio for most of her time at McKinley High, she is still feeling insecure when it comes to showing of her body. A body that Sam, for one, knows is kicking ass.

'Okay, okay,' Quinn sighs after a moment of inner debate.

_Oh fuck!_ Sam has to gasp as she lets her cute cream colored dress drop to the tile floor. And judging by the sudden quietness in the pool, the other boys do the same. She looks absolutely amazing in a sexy yet elegant red and white striped bandeau bikini lacking shoulder straps. It is showing of her well-toned body perfectly.

Sam swallows hard. _Oh God is she beautiful._

He watches her walk towards the pool and as she steps down the latter he unconsciously holds his breath. Startled by the unexpected sound of a man's voice in his ear he lets out the breath he didn't know he was holding.

'Before you come,' Puck says and lifts both his eyebrows, 'warn me.'

Sam frowns, at first not understanding. Then the light goes up and he ogles the other boy and slowly shakes his head. _Disgusting._

Puck shrugs.

* * *

Author's note

Well, here's the fourteenth chapter. I really hope you like it! At least I had quite fun writing it! :)

The song featured in this chapter is _Marry You_ by Bruno Mars. That song always makes me happy and I thought it would fit the occasion quite well. Also, I think it brings back memories of what I believe was the highlight of the show (early to mid-season 2).

Well, as I said earlier; I hope you liked the chapter! :)


	15. Not So Alone

Not Making the Same Mistake Again

Summary: Less than four months remain of the school year, for some students it's the last four months at William McKinley High. Therefore it's natural for the kids to want to make the best of the remaining time. However, a lot of things can go wrong in sixteen weeks . . .

Rated Teen for language primarily. There may be some spoilers for the two first seasons of the show as well as the third up until somewhere short after the episode _Hold on to Sixteen_.

I hope you will enjoy reading this multi-character fanfiction as much as I have enjoyed writing it!

I apologize in advance for any incorrect grammar or typo that may occur.

Reviews are very welcome.

Disclaimer: I do_not_ own _Glee_ nor do I own any of its characters. The same goes for anything involving the music mentioned.

End of author's note. Now on to the story!

* * *

Chapter 15 – Not So Alone

[FRIDAY – part III]

Santana turns in the doorway. There's a sneaky smile on her face. 'He likes you.'

'What? Who?' Quinn queers confused. Exhaustion has gotten the better of her and right about now all she wants is to crawl in between the sheets and call it a night. Who knew pool parties could be so tiring?

The raven haired girl rolls her eyes dramatically and sighs. 'He totally got turned on when you dropped that dress and showed of your hot mama's body.' Now it's Quinn's turn to do the eye rolling. 'I'm telling you he's packing . . . big time.' Santana rocks her hips slightly to accentuate her point.

The blonde shakes her head. 'Eew! You're sick Santana. _Sick!_'

The darker girl shrugs. 'I know what I saw,' she says and grins.

'Whatever. Bye,' Quinn says, starting to close the front door while trying to hide the smile that is spreading across her lips and the slight blush that is creeping up on her cheeks.

'Bye, smokin' mama,' Santana says and laughs. 'And don't think I missed that smile, Q.' She winks at the taller, blonde, girl.

Quinn shakes her head. _Sometimes Santana, you're a real pain in the ass. '_I love you, drive safe.'

Santana snorts—though Quinn knows it is all just for show—and walks to her car.

Quinn closes the door and leans against the hard wood. _Finally alone. _She lets out a ragged sigh. _For the past months I have tried so hard to get better – to look better; more healthy and sane. Though to be honest I don't feel a tad better now than I did during my rebellion. Maybe it is all because this is just as fake? It's just as fake as my Skanks-me. I might have dyed my hair back to blonde now, removed the nose ring and stopped wearing those slutty clothes but on the inside my heart feels as shattered as it did then . . ._

She walks over to the couch and drops down onto it, sighing loudly as she goes. She thinks of what she told herself this New Year eve, about wishing for prosperity and all that. _How could I be so demanding before? And so blind? How could I not see that I already had everything I wished for? Now all I want is for things to get back to what they used to be . . . _

She sighs again and feels tears stinging at the back of her eyes. She's all alone and therefore she sees no use in keeping them back. The first tear slides down her cheek and drops down onto her lap.

_I had everything. I was Quinn Fabray the captain of the Cheerios; I had friends, real friends, maybe for the first time in my life. I was doing Glee and I even felt good about it, and I had the cutest boy in school. How could I not see all that?_

She sniffs and wipes at her eyes. _Good thing I wear waterproof mascara . . . As if that matters right now._

* * *

He pulls the zipper up on his jeans and turns the water on. It takes a few seconds for the hot water to reach the upstairs bathroom, he knows, so he takes the time to examine his reflection in the mirror. A reflection he is rather satisfied with. _Suppose the dancing has gotten me to respect my own body in a different way. _He pinches his abs and nods. _Or it's just that I've built more muscle since last year._ He cannot help but to laugh despite himself. _And they say that girls are vain . . ._

He reaches down and puts his hands under the running water. Watching the stream of water sweep of the vanilla scented soap foam from his calloused hands. After having cleaned off all the soap he turns the tap off, dries his hands on the white cotton towel lying on the counter top, and unlocks the door.

The first thing he notices when he steps out of the bathroom is how quiet it is. The music that played downstairs—at a high volume—has died out. _I cannot have been in there that long, can I?_

He slowly walks down the stairs, but pauses at the bottom step as he hears sounds coming from the living room. Muffled sniffs and gasps. _Sobbing?_ 'Quinn?' he queers as he enters the room.

Startled by the sound of another human being, the blonde girl wipes at her wet eyes. 'Sam,' she gasp terrified.

'Are you okay?' he asks as he walks towards her. _What the hell are you thinking, dude? She's all alone, curled up on the couch crying – of course she's not okay!_

'Mm, yeah. I'm okay.'

He smiles, though his eyes are sad. 'Somehow I find that hard to believe . . .'

'Oh . . . I'm okay. I promise.' She still hasn't allowed her eyes to meet his.

Sam grows quiet. _Quinn will never ask for help . . . she never needs anyone, she told you that herself. _He sighs. _Hell, I'll give it a try. Make it or break it, ain't that what they say?_ 'Well . . . I should probably go then . . .' He slowly gazes around the room as if to make sure that everybody has in fact gone home. _Come on, let this work._ Then he makes a move to leave the living room.

Quinn lifts her gaze—for the first time since Sam entered the room—and looks at him, straight at him. The sadness in her eyes right about kills him. 'You . . . you don't have to. If you don't want to,' she says quietly.

A bit surprised by her actually offering him to stay and at the same time pleased that his plan worked out he turns his head back towards her. The expression he is wearing is a mixture of pure confusion, sadness and at the same time a hint of excitement.

She stares nervously at him. 'Please say something,' she pleads.

Offering her a weary smile he takes a couple of carefully measured steps towards her. 'Talking is overrated. Lot of bad stuff going on in the world right now as a result of people saying things they shouldn't,' he points out and drops down next to her on the couch. He gently strokes a strand of her blonde hair from her eye and leans in and plants a tender, though completely platonic, kiss on her forehead. 'I'll stay all night if you want me to,' he says softly, though knowing she could never do such a thing as long as she still lives in this house, with her mother, hell, he's not even sure she would ask him to stay all night even if she had a place of her own.

With his answer her eyes gets filled with both happiness and dread._ What the eff did I do that for? What are we supposed to do, or talk about? How it's working out with Mercedes? What he did in Kentucky? I don't want to know any of that!_

He must have seen the discomfort in her eyes because he reaches out to her and caresses her cheek. 'Come here,' he says and motions for her to move closer. Hesitantly she scoots nearer and then he folds his arms around her, pulling them even tighter. 'You did great today, Quinn,' he mumbles into her strawberry and vanilla smelling hair; his favorite combination of scents.

She breaks away from him and gazes up into his green eyes. She has her right eyebrow hissed in that characteristic way of hers. Her forehead slightly wrinkled with confusion. _Has he gone senile or something? How can he have forgotten about my break down just mere minutes ago?_

'You didn't lash out at Rachel . . .' he says and tucks another lock of her hair behind her ear. 'when she, you know . . . said _that_ . . .'

'You mean when she accused me of being the schools greatest boyfriend stealer and therefore also indirectly a slut?' She knows he is right, had it been one year ago she would have punched the short diva right on that crooked nose of hers. 'I guess I have matured a bit since last time you saw me. I probably would have made her life hell if it had been last year or the year before that.'

Rachel had in fact come back to join the rest of the partying teenagers after she had put on some dry clothes. But it was only to find Finn and the rest of the party guests in the pool. Upset and irritated after the little accident that had happened earlier in the evening, the one that got her completely soaked from top to toe, Rachel grabbed one of the Jack Daniels bottles Puck had brought and downed it. Unfortunately alcohol and anger doesn't go too well in hand, causing Rachel to snap at Quinn for some unknown reason. One thing had led to another and soon the short diva was calling the former head Cheerio a boyfriend stealer and a slut.

He nods and repeats 'I'm really proud of you.' He crooks his neck so that his head gets closer to hers. 'You wanna watch a movie or something?'

She can almost feel his breath on her skin and oh boy does it feel good. 'Eh . . . yeah. Why not.' She shrugs. 'What do you—' But before she can finish the sentence Sam has already let go of her and strutted over to the TV. Crouching down he pops the disk holder open. No DVD is in there so he casually opens the door to the cabinet on which the TV is positioned. After sifting through the DVD cases for a brief moment he seems to find a movie that speaks to him. He throws a quick glance at her, a dorky and absolutely adorable smirk plastered on his face.

_What in the name of God is he now up to now?_ She smiles back at him, watching him turn back around to the TV again. _Nevertheless, it's a pretty good view. Wait what are you doing? Damn you Quinn Fabray! Seriously Quinn, for the love of God, stop staring at Sam's ass! _She violently shakes her head to make the dirty thoughts go away, but it doesn't work that well. _Though it's a very, very good sight._

'What?' he queers as he turns around and finds her with reddened cheeks. Then his lips part into a wide toothy smile. 'You were totally checking my ass out, weren't you?' he laughs.

'I was not!' she replies, perhaps a little too quickly.

'You totally were, but I can't blame you . . .' he laughs, noticing the, once characteristic, cockiness in his voice. He has missed it. Going through what he has for the past six months kind of killed the confident goofy teenage boy inside of him —the one with all the X-men comics and Star Wars movies and the one that quoted Avatar to impress his first love—and replaced it with a boring and insecure half grown man, who worked restaurants and pizza huts at day and the local strip joints at night to bring home money to his family.

_Busted!_ 'You're hallucinating, Sam!'

'Whatever,' he snickers and places a disc in the DVD player.

She rolls her eyes as she sees the DVD's menu appear on the screen. Avatar. _Again_.

'I suppose I forgot it last time I was here . . . Do you know how much I've been looking for this?'

'I can only imagine,' she teases, obviously feeling a lot better.

He walks back to the couch and sits down next to her, pulling her legs onto his lap. She sends him a questioning look but he pretends to not see it. After selecting 'play full movie' he leans into the backrest, his hands resting on her bare legs.

Halfway through the film Sam glances aside and catches Quinn peacefully asleep. Beneath her eyelids the eyes flicker back and forth all caught up in some intense dream. He smiles. _Wonder what she's dreaming of . . ._

When the movie ends, about one and a half hour later, Sam turns the TV off by using the remote control. Then he reaches over and fetches the gray blanket from the adjacent couch. Carefully he unfolds it and spreads it out over the sleeping blonde girl. He throws a glance at the digital clock on the DVD player. 03.12 A.M. _Mom will kill me . . ._ _I really should go. _

Then he looks down at Quinn, sleeping soundly under the blanket. _Or I could text her saying I'm staying at Finn's. _

And somewhere along that line his mind lost the battle to the heart. He grabs his phone, sends a text to his mother saying he'll sleep at Finn's place and then he pulls his legs up on the couch and stretches out to his full length beside her. Luckily for him Quinn is quite thin and the sofa pretty wide, making it possible for the two of them to lie side by side, though he have to lie pretty close to her.

Adjusting the small cushion and pulling the blanket over himself as well, he comes to realize that this will be the first time he sleeps at the Fabray house, ever. He smiles despite himself and wraps an arm around her waist, though mostly to prevent rolling off the couch, and then he closes his eyes, unaware of the smile that is still plastered on his lips.

* * *

Author's note,

Sorry for not updating regularly, but lately I've been awfully busy with school! I actually had an exam in English language structure today ;) However, it is so nice to see that this fanfic seems to have gotten quite a few followers. And the reviews you are posting are so sweet, they make me really happy and they're good feedback and encouragement too! So thank you very much! :)

Well, anyways, I hoped you liked this chapter. It's a little shorter than the others I've written, I think; but you got a little more Fabrevans interaction, so I hope that makes up for it ;) Please, leave a comment and tell me what you think of this chapter and the story so far :)


	16. Sing

Not Making the Same Mistake Again

Summary: Less than four months remain of the school year, for some students it's the last four months at William McKinley High. Therefore it's natural for the kids to want to make the best of the remaining time. However, a lot of things can go wrong in sixteen weeks . . .

Rated Teen for language primarily. There may be some spoilers for the two first seasons of the show as well as the third up until somewhere short after the episode _Hold on to Sixteen_.

I hope you will enjoy reading this multi-character fanfiction as much as I have enjoyed writing it!

I apologize in advance for any incorrect grammar or typo that may occur.

Reviews are very welcome.

Disclaimer: I do_not_ own _Glee_ nor do I own any of its characters. The same goes for anything involving the music mentioned.

End of author's note. Now on to the story!

* * *

_Chapter 16 – Sing_

[SATURDAY]

_Bip! Bip! Bip!_

Sam groans loudly. 'Morning already? Awh . . .' he mumbles while rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with one hand. Then he turns, just a bit, and becomes aware of the dull pain in his neck and shoulders, but more than that he becomes aware of the warm, breathing, form lying right next to his body.

_Oh man . . . she slept next to you all night, hell, in your arms_? He lets his head fall down onto the cushion again, sighing loudly, though careful not to do it loud enough to wake her up. He watches her figure, her chest rising and falling with every new breath, her head moving slowly to the side, caught deep in a dream. For the first time since he got back from Kentucky she seems happy and at peace. The sun is peeping in through the blinds, casting its first warming beams on her exposed arm.

_What time is it really?_ He glances at the DVD player. 6.03 A.M. It could have been worse, it could have been 10.00 A.M. and if that would have been the case Quinn's mom could be walking in on them any second. _I need to get going!_

Glancing at her as she moves a bit in his arms, he smiles, unaware of it himself, then he slowly removes his arm from around her thin waist. _Her unusually thin waist_, he notes. She most have lost a few pounds since last year, and that's not really good in her case. She's slim as it is.

Carefully he slides out from underneath the blanket and discover both to his terror and embarrassment that little Samuel is standing in full salute. _Fucking morning erection . . . _hemutters to himself, putting a hand over his crotch, just in case Quinn would wake up. He stands up and hears her groan quietly as the warmth of his body leaves hers. And _damn_ it does nothing to help him get rid of the embarrassing bulge in his pants.

Tucking the blanket around her he sees her eyes flutter under the eyelids, but fortunately she doesn't wake up. He moves over to the other couch, grabs is bag and phone—the one that woke him up earlier—and heads for the front door. Just as he is about to turn the brace door knob he remembers something.

_My pocket._ He opens his duffle bag and pulls his McKinley High Letterman jacket out. In the right pocket lays Quinn's iPhone. He picks it up and moves over to the couch where the girl is still sleeping soundly. He places it on the coffee table before heading back to the front door.

Five minutes later he's at the bus stop, fumbling to find his bus pass, when Judy Fabray passes by in her brand new silver Mercedes. Sam waves. Mrs. Fabray doesn't recognize him though, or maybe she pretends not to. He doesn't know what explanation Quinn gave her after Quinn and he broke up last spring. But one thing is sure: she probably didn't tell her it was because she cheated on him with his best friend.

* * *

He has been spending the entire afternoon locked up in his bedroom. He isn't angry or sad or anything, but he really feels like he needs the time alone. Finn's been terrorizing him all morning about clothes for the upcoming prom, advices on how he should ask Rachel to go with him and what kind of flowers he should buy for her. It is really sweat, Kurt thinks, that his step-brother is so concerned with pleasing his girlfriend, but sometimes Finn can be a little too much. He can never seem to use his own brain and always comes to Kurt for advice. It is a great thing though, that Finn trusts his new brother so much, but as noted; it can get a little intense at times.

So that is the reason why Kurt has spent the second half of the day alone in his room. _That_, and the fact that he really needs to find a good song to sing in Glee Club. He rarely runs out of ideas for great songs to sing, but right now he is really struggling to find one.

He hit Google about an hour ago, searching for "great 80s songs" and came up with a list made by some magazine he has never before heard of. And now he is testing all the tracks on that list. All one hundred tracks.

Kurt is lying flat on his stomach listening intently to the lyrics when he hears a firm knock on the door. However, he doesn't have time to answer before Blaine pops his head inside. 'Can I come in?' the tall brown haired boy asks and smiles. He has got the most perfect of smiles, Kurt notes.

Kurt nods rapidly. 'Of course.' He smiles too. Blaine pushes the door open and enters and Kurt pats on the bed spread beside him to motion for Blaine to come sit next him. 'I didn't hear you coming,' Kurt says as his boyfriend sits down beside to him.

Blaine snickers and flashes a wide toothy grin. 'Quite understandable,' he nods towards the iPod docking station that is pumping real loud 80's music. 'What is that? Alphaville?' He smirks, rises and walks over to the stereo. 'Are you getting your 80's funk on? Perming and backcombing your hair and dressing in skin tight leather trouser are the next step.'

Kurt shrugs. 'I need to find something to sing in Glee Club.'

Blaine nods and turns the volume up. 'It's the only song by them that I actually know the lyrics to.' He smiles. Then he starts to sing.

_Let's dance in style  
Let's dance for a while  
Heaven can wait we're only watching the skies  
Hoping for the best but expecting the worst  
Are you gonna drop the bomb or not?_

Smiling broadly, Blaine points to Kurt. He wants him to sing with him and luckily he gets his will through when the shorter boy opens his mouth.

_Let us die young or let us live forever  
We don't have the power but we never say never  
Sitting in a sandpit  
Life is a short trip  
The music's for the sad man_

___Can you imagine when this race is won  
__Turn out golden faces into the sun_  
_Praising our leaders we're getting in tune_  
The music's played by the, madman  


_______Forever young,  
__I want to be forever young_  
_Do you really want to live forever?_  
Forever, or never  


_______________Forever young,  
__I want to be forever young_  
_Do you really want to live forever?_  
Forever, or never

_______________________________________Some are a melody and some are the beat_  
_________________Some are like water, some are like the heat_  
_______________Sooner or later they all will be gone_  
Why don't we stay young?

_______________________________________It's so hard to get old without a cause_  
_I don't want to perish like a fading horse_  
_Youth like diamonds in the sun_  
_And diamonds are forever_

___So many adventures couldn't happen today_  
_So many songs we forgot to play_  
_So many dreams are swinging out of the blue_  
_We let 'em come true_  


_________________Forever young,  
__I want to be forever young_  
_Do you really want to live forever?_  
Forever, or never

_________________________________Forever young,  
__I want to be forever young_  
_Do you really want to live forever?_  
Forever, or never

_________________________________________________Forever young,  
__I want to be forever young_  
_Do you really want to live forever?_

Blaine laughs heartedly and pats Kurt on the shoulder. 'I think we have found our song for Glee Club.' The shorter boy smiles and nods.

* * *

He drops down on the bed with a huge sigh. While burying his head in the pillows he starts to go over all the things that could go wrong. He could forget the lyrics, his voice could crack and he could mispronounce something and change the whole meaning of the song to something completely different and probably _very_ inappropriate. The chance of him failing is overwhelming. _Ugh!_ He just wants to scream and tear his hair off.

He is usually the quiet confident Asian dude from the football team, but there are two things that make him shiver and want nothing more than to seek cover under his bed. Those things are his father and singing in public.

'Do you really think this is a good idea?' he queers nervously. 'You know I'm not that good of a singer.' He makes a short pause. 'Actually, I _suck_. I'll just embarrass you. Maybe it's better if I just dance in the background and you do all the singing. You're good at that. And I'm good at dancing. We'll do what we do best and you won't be ashamed of me and the other's won't laugh and—'

He feels a finger being placed over his lips and a pair of lovely dark brown—almost black—eyes gazing at him. 'Stop babbling. You don't make any sense.' The eyes smile at him. 'That's not like you.'

'But, I, I,' he stutters but is silenced by a pair of incredulously soft lips landing on his.

'No 'buts'. You are going to do just fine,' the girl tells him as she slowly pulls away from him. He sighs and is just about to protest when the black haired girl holds up a warning hand. 'Mike, no,' she firmly says and reaches over to the nightstand and picks up a piece of sheet music. As she hands it to him she tells him, 'The next thing I'll hear come from your lovely lips are these lyrics or I'll walk out of here.'

Judging by the firmness in her voice and the resolution in her eyes Mike quickly understands that she is not presenting him with empty threats here – she means it. That is part of why he loves her though, she is this really goofy girl but when she needs to she can be more determined that Coach Beiste. It's cool.

When he nods, she hits the play bottom on his iPod docking station and a familiar intro fills the room. He glances over at her one last time, before the first verse begins, to see if there is the slightest sign in her eyes that could present him with an opportunity of not singing. He ends up combing zero though.

_________________If I had to live my life without you near me  
The days would all be empty  
__The nights would seem so long_  


He glances over to her again, though this time he isn't searching for an excuse to stop singing but for some sort of response to how he is doing. When she parts her lips and smiles at him, he inwardly sighs with relief.

_________________________________________With you I see forever oh so clearly_  
_I might have been in love before_  
_But it never felt this strong_

Never before has he realized how much this song reminds him of _The Lion King_. He cannot quit put a finger on what it is that makes him see lions and zebras and giraffes all dancing together in a circle to this song, but he guesses that it has something to do with the voice of George Benson. Maybe he was one of the artists that sung on the soundtrack. _I've gotta look that up_, he makes a mental note.

___________________________________________________________Our dreams are young and we both know_  
_They'll take us where we want to go_  
_Hold me now, touch me now_  
_I don't want to live without you_

Tina gives him thumbs up as he manages to hit the higher notes in the last part of the verse. It makes him feel very proud but he figures that for the performance they will do in front of the other's Glee Club Tina will have to take that part.

_Nothing's gonna change my lo—_

Suddenly the door is swung open and Mike's father storms in. 'What is all this noise?' he grunts. 'I'm trying to solve my Sudoku puzz—' He stops short as he sees Mike freezing with his mouth semi open and a piece of sheet music in his hands. 'Oh . . .' he mumbles quietly. He flickers his gaze over to the girl in the room. 'Uh, hi, Tina.'

She nods a quick 'hello' and then drops her gaze to the floor.

'I, uh. Keep up the good work, son,' Mr. Chang mumbles before he leaves.

As the footsteps have disappeared—meaning Mr. Chang has walked down the stairs and back into the living room—Tina turns to face Mike. The boy's face is shifting between various shades of crimson and his stare is glossy and absent. She stands up and walks over to him. Kneeling so that their heads are at the same level, she puts her hands on his knees and strokes them gently with her thumbs. 'I think it sounded good,' she murmurs and crooks her neck to get a better look at his face.

Loudly he sighs and turns his gaze to her. 'I suck!'

She shakes her head. 'No, you don't. You just need a little more practice—'

He bits his bottom lip and shakes his head furiously. 'No. You don't get it . . .' Short pause. 'I. Suck.' He clears his throat that has begun to constrict with emotion he doesn't want to show. 'I will _never_ be a good singer.' Shaking his head slowly in disappointment over his own lack of talent he tells her, 'I can't do this. I can't sing with you.'

'Hey, you . . .' she reaches out and cups his face in her small hands. 'Of course you can do this.' She smiles encouraging. 'And I'll be by your side all the way. Okay?'

He chuckles softly. 'You're pretty sweet for being a vampire,' he teases referring to when Principle Figgins thought that Tina was a blood sucking night creature.

She slaps him on the arm playfully. 'Don't tease me, I might bite you!'

'I wouldn't mind,' he winks.

Theatrically she rolls her eyes. 'Don't tempt me.'

* * *

Author's note,

Woke up to find 8 inches of fluffy white snow covering the ground outside my bedroom window this morning. Winter's officially arrived! ;)

Anyway, the two songs featured in this chapter are Alphaville's _Forever Young_ and George Benson's Nothing's_ Gonna Change My Love for You. _

Hope you liked the chapter and please review :)


	17. Look What We Have Become

Not Making the Same Mistake Again

Summary: Less than four months remain of the school year, for some students it's the last four months at William McKinley High. Therefore it's natural for the kids to want to make the best of the remaining time. However, a lot of things can go wrong in sixteen weeks . . .

Rated Teen for language primarily. There may be some spoilers for the two first seasons of the show as well as the third up until somewhere short after the episode _Hold on to Sixteen_.

I hope you will enjoy reading this multi-character fanfiction as much as I have enjoyed writing it!

I apologize in advance for any incorrect grammar or typo that may occur.

Reviews are very welcome.

Disclaimer: I do_not_ own _Glee_ nor do I own any of its characters. The same goes for anything involving the music mentioned.

End of author's note. Now on to the story!

* * *

_Chapter 17 – Look What We Have Become_

[MONDAY]

_Barbara Streisand . . . Barbara Streisand didn't need a stupid boy to get her where she wanted! She climbed to the top on her own, _Rachel mutters as she paces back and forth in her tidy bedroom. Her forehead is in deep creases and she is pouting her lips that way only she can, the way that tells you "Back off or I'll punch you in the face!". Her hands are curled into tiny little fists—even though Quinn once referred to her as Man Hands indicating she had humongous hands for being such a tiny person—that every once in a while she angrily wags in the air.

'Rach, you don't think you're overreacting just a little bit?' the slender boy, who is seated on her queen sized bed, asks. He is lazily wielding the end of the belt of his beige trench coat back and forth in his gracious hand, slowly wrapping and un-wrapping the piece of cloth from around his fingers.

Rachel shakes her head violently. 'Uh-uh. No way.' The thing about Rachel is that if she has decided on something—anything, no matter what—there is almost nothing that is going to make her change her mind. The only person, Kurt speculates, that could maybe—possibly, probably—make the petite diva change her mind would be the one and only Barbara Streisand.

Often this property of Rachel Berry is a good one—without it Glee Club wouldn't be what it is today, hell, it probably wouldn't even exist, that much Kurt is willing to admit, but sometimes, like right now, for instance, it just makes her one big—despite her height—pain in the ass.

'I think Kurt is right, Rachel. Why would Finn go through all that trouble just to piss you off?' Mercedes, who is seated next to Kurt, says.

Kurt nods and then he looks back at Rachel. The brunette is still pacing back and forth across the carpet. _If she doesn't stop soon_, he thinks, _her dads will have to replace the soon to be torn carpet._ 'He loves you, Rachel,' Kurt says slowly, still watching Rachel's fathers trying to replace her carpet with a new, intact one. The movie that is playing in his head is pretty amusing. Rachel's dads, he notes, are not the kind of people who come across as very handy.

There is a short glimpse of heartache in Rachel's eyes. It lasts for, maybe, a hundredth of a second or two, but it is enough for both Kurt and Mercedes to catch. Quickly she returns to pacing back and forth – annoying the living shit out of both of her friends.

'He loves you. It is true, even though he might not say it straight to your face every day. He loves you. Above everything else, Rachel. Above singing, above football,' Kurt preaches. He wants nothing but for Rachel to stop pitying herself. There are a lot of people out there who loves her; she just has to open her eyes.

'No, _no!_' Rachel shakes her head as she puts a stop to her pacing. She is staring bluntly into the mélange irises of Kurt's. '_If_ he loves me,' she points out and holds up a warning hand to stop Kurt—or Mercedes, for that matter—to even _think_ about interrupting her, 'he _wouldn't _have acted the way he did. He _would,_ however, have defended me. He would have followed me inside and he _would have walked me home_ when I said I wanted to leave. Not wave me off and say "I'll catch up with you later" and do the cannonball into the freaking pool!' Her voice is beginning to reach beyond angry and enter the high-pitched "upset stage", which makes her look like a hardcore junkie with very serious withdrawal symptoms.

'Rachel,' Mercedes tries to get a word in, but is soon cut off.

'Don't you!' Rachel warns her and points an angry index finger at the African American girl. 'Don't you dare.'

Kurt rises from his position on the bed and takes a step towards Rachel. 'To tell the truth, I'm getting pretty sick and tired of all this,' he says, even he is beginning to get a little upset, though he is a little bit more skilled at controlling his emotions than Rachel is. But note that it is only a _little_. 'Finn is my _brother!_ It might not be by blood, but nevertheless he is _my_ brother. And I get to listen to his hour-long rambles about how perfect and amazing and wonderful you are, Rachel! So don't you dare come here and say that he doesn't love you or that he doesn't care about you! Because the truth, _Rachel Berry_, is that you will probably never _ever _find someone that will love you as much as he does! He might not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, oh God, he might even get outsmarted by Brittany, but believe me when I tell you that if there is one thing he knows—and I, too—it is that he is head over heels about _you_. And that he would do anything to be with you.'

As he finishes his powerful and emotionally charged speech, the room grows dead silent. The only sound to be heard is the wrought-up breathing of Kurt, as he tries to regain his breath and the control over his feelings. He has never been good at dealing with emotions, though he realizes now that he might have met someone that is even worse than he is in that compartment.

* * *

_Dear Journal,_

_Last night it all came clear to me. Like a revelation. A sign from the thick-bearded man, God, himself. What the message said, carried down by a blonde angel dressed in a red tracksuit, only fortified what I have already known for decades. I am a genius, a groundbreaker and a paragon. I am brilliant. Not only do I have a highly appreciated live talk show to prove it, Sue's Corner now officially being the most watched show in Western Ohio, I have the shiny, golden trophies and the diplomas too. Am I bragging, Journal? Am I embracing myself without reasons to? No. No, I don't think so. _

_This week I have watched the first fruits of my ingenious plan to crush Glee Club being harvested. While walking through the halls of McKinley one morning I heard muffled whispers and laughs along with words such as Glee Club, losers, Quinn Fabray, Mr. Eaton and slut. I was also called into a meeting with Figgins and Schuester the other day, where the two primates asked me to inform them as soon as I found out who the terrible person was who sent the photographs around the school. Luckily, for me, the kids in Glee Club took care of this on their own as they said that the chubby, former cheerleader Mercedes Jones was the evil mind behind the blackmailing. I know, Journal, that it is a long way left to walk before my Cheerios budget is fully restored again, but this is a start. The best in weeks._

There is a light knock on the door. Had she not been born with perfect hearing she would have probably not heard it. But instead Sue finds herself calling, 'Come in, Becky,' assuming that it is her short, blonde personal assistant and the current co-captain of her beloved Cheerios that are asking for permission to enter the holy sanctum of Sue Sylvester's. But instead of Becky another blonde girl steps into her office.

'Well, well,' Sue says. 'Who do we have here? Isn't it the once _so_ promising Quinn Fabray.' She crosses her arms and leans back in her chair. 'Have a seat.' Quinn sits down opposite Sue and straightens out a few wrinkles in her green skirt. 'What do you want?' Sue asks, skipping all the meaningless drivel and jumping straight to the part where she get to interrogate her victim, in this case Quinn.

The blonde girl gazes up and into Sue's eyes and the Cheerios coach notes that there are not many people here at this school—or in the world, for that matter—who dares to do that. 'I,' Quinn begins, 'I want my spot on the squad back.' She is staring flatly at Sue who leans forward and narrows her eyes.

'And what, Missy, makes you think that I would want to take you back after all the times you have disappointed me and humiliated me.'

Quinn leans forward too. 'Because, coach Sylvester, you won't win Nationals this year without me.' She doesn't flinch and she doesn't blink, instead she firmly stares directly into Sue's cold blue orbs.

The Cheerios coach sniffs. 'What makes you believe that? I made it without you two years ago, when you were waddling around with that fat belly of yours swelling out over your maternal pants lining.'

Quinn dips her head slightly to the side. 'It isn't 2010 anymore,' she points out and glances around the room, at all the trophies and diplomas. 'And I have noticed how your girls seem to have lost some of their respect for you as well as for their captains. I even caught Courtney eating a bar of Snickers the other day. No one did that when I was captain.'

_She has got a point. The competition has grown a lot tougher the past two years_, an inner voice tells her. _Shut it, Sue. You can do this without Fabray. The only thing standing between that trophy and you is the limitations you put up for yourself. You don't need Quinn Fabray._ Sue narrows her eyes even more and chews on her lip. _But she is the only one that can pull of being at the top of the pyramid without quivering. Lopez's fake boobs make her disproportionate and unstable at the top._

'You truly want to become a Cheerio again, don't you?' Sue asks after a moment. Quinn doesn't reply, instead she straightens her back and lifts her chin up, hoping that she hasn't lost all of her HBIC-attitude. 'Question is: what are you willing to do to earn back your uniform?' Sue muses, hoping that the blonde girl will swallow the bait.

Quinn remains silent.

* * *

Another class completed on the final year she never dreamed of having. Don't get it wrong though, she's dreamed about it, planned it and worked for it, but she never fantasized of it being like this.

In her plans she would leave McKinley High School as captain of the Cheerios and the most popular girl at school, the one that no one ever messed with, the one that other girls wanted to be and boys wanted to date.

In hear dreams back then she would date Noah Puckerman, the residential bad boy. He was hot, he was toned and a great football player and he's not the kind of guy you mess with. Sure Finn Hudson was kind of cool but his body sucked. It still does, by the way. Manboobs, ugh! And of course she would have a full cheerleading scholarship and leave Lima as soon as graduation was over.

She had never expected, when she first sat her foot in McKinley High School, that she would join a dorky school show choir, let alone quit the cheerleading squad because of it; get slushie facials; realize she was lesbian and befriend nobodies like Mercedes Jones, Artie Abrams, Tina Cohen-Chang and Rachel Berry. But apparently she wasn't very good at predicting her future.

She isn't too disappointed though, that it didn't turn out exactly as she had planned it. Because she hadn't dreamed of falling in love with Brittany and that is the best thing that has ever happened to her. Even if it is a little hard letting others know about it. But the direction her life took sure has its downsides too. And it is not just the slushie facials. It sucks always being mocked. Always being told you are a loser, a nobody. It tears you down. And it makes you sad and angry and itchy. And Santana's got enough of those emotions already. Too much.

Today hasn't done anything to make it better either.

The day started off with her missing the bus. And that always sucks, because since her truck broke down two months ago, missing the bus means she has to walk from Lima Heights Adjacent. That's quite a distance, especially in five inch heels. When she finally got to school, she was kindly greeted with a cold strawberry slushie in the face by Rick "The Stick" Nelson and his tribe of indescribably dumb brothers, also known as the rest of the hockey team.

What a wonderful day, ain't it?

Therefore seeing the first hour come to an end is a blessing. Only five left. _Yay!_

As she is forcefully stuffing books back into her locker a short brown haired figure comes up to her. 'What do you want, Manhands?' Santana mutters and slams her locker shut with great force. The metal sheet door rattles as the Latina turns on her heels and squeezes past the short diva.

'I know that you are angry,' Rachel says and she has to jog to keep up with the taller girl. 'And sad and disappointed. And you probably feel like you have been let down, abandoned—'

'Thank you! You're doing a very good job at cheering me up here, Hobbit,' Santana snaps and shoots a murderous look at a skinny boy with a severe case of acne who dared to squint sideways at her.

'Wait, wait,' Rachel pants. 'I know it must be hard for you,' the short brunette says and grabs the taller girls arm. 'But you are not alone.' She stares up into the black orbs of the Latina. 'We love you, Santana,' she says in a soft voice. 'And it's like Finn said, you're awesome. But you hide that awesomeness when you hide a part of yourself and if your abuela isn't ready to face who you are then so be it, but don't tear yourself down because of it.' Santana averts her eyes to the side. 'She will accept it eventually, Santana. You just have to give her some time. Look at Kurt and his father,' Rachel says and tilts her head to the side.

'Burt's not like my abuela,' Santana mumbles and tries to withdraw her arm from the short brunette's grip. But Rachel is much stronger then she appears to be.

'It doesn't matter,' Rachel says. 'He loves Kurt. Your grandmother loves you. She will learn to live with it. Trust me.' The brunette smiles supportively. 'Just give her some time.' Slowly the raven haired girl nods. She hates to admit it but the short, super annoying diva is right. She cannot continue to tear herself down like this. This is who she is and fuck those who won't accept her for it.

'Okay?' Rachel queers and offers a warm smile. Santana nods. The short brunette beams. 'Then may I walk with you to History class?' she says in a chirping voice.

Santana looks to the sides quickly before nodding discreetly. 'But don't make it look like we're actually friends.'

Rachel snickers, but there is a slight hint of surprise in her voice as she says, 'You do count me as one of your friends?'

The cheerleader shoots her a sharp look. But it basically screams "Be quiet!" to her.

Rachel smirks. 'I am honored, Santana. I really am.' Then she starts to walk towards the class room in which they are having American History. 'I will be discrete. I promise,' she assures as the Latina ponders whether she should run ahead of the short diva or wait a moment and then walk behind her.

Rachel's words seem to calm the co-captain of the Cheerios a little, and the two girls start to walk down the hall together. As they pass the door leading to the choir room, Rachel speaks up. 'It is a good thing though, sometimes, that you are mad. But not when it is because of me.'

Santana rolls her eyes annoyed.

'Who would otherwise stick up against coach Sylvester?' Rachel pouts her lips thoughtfully. 'Sure Puck _could_ do it, but for some reason he doesn't. Quinn can be mean, but I do for some inexplicable reason believe that she actually likes Sue.' The raven haired girl lifts her eyebrows 'Besides none of them have the same sarcasm and wittiness that you possess.'

'Are you sucking up to me?' Santana queers and she cannot stop herself from laughing.

'Is it that obvious?' Rachel asks coyly, and then she starts to laugh too. 'No, I am not sucking up to you, Santana.' She glances at the taller girl. 'You are admirable and I am doing just that. Admiring you.' She smiles as her eyes returns to the ground a few feet in front of them. 'We have spent so much time hating each other, when we actually had no reason to do so.' She pauses, and Santana guesses that it is one of those famous Rachel Berry pauses for effect. 'I am sorry that we started off wrong. It wasn't just your fault. I am as guilty as you. And it hurts to see you sad and angry, Santana.' Rachel glances at the Latina again. 'We do love you. Very much. And I am truly going to miss you when I head off to NYADA and you go to Louisville.'

Santana chuckles, but it sounds forced. 'Thank you, I guess,' she says and looks to the side. 'I suppose I'm going to miss you too. Your annoying babble about NYADA, Nationals and Broadway, your big ugly nose and the fact that you're always right,'

Rachel smiles, but it seems forced.

Santana grins. 'But most of all I am going to miss your _amazing_ voice, how you always look out for everyone else and how you got us to work together and finally win that _damn _Nationals trophy.' Well, actually they hasn't won Nationals yet, but Santana has a pretty good feeling they will.

The short brunette smiles from ear to ear and moist starts to form in the corner of her eye. 'And I'm going to miss a very good friend,' Santana says and places a hand on Rachel's shoulder. 'Come on, Yentl. We're running late.'

Rachel wipes at her eyes and nods. She is really going to miss this place and all the people.

* * *

He cannot remember exactly when it happened, or why, but somehow lying flat on his back on the top row of the bleachers by the football field become his secret hideout spot, the place where he comes when he needs to think or when he feels like he needs some time alone.

Actually the place is the worst imaginable for hiding from or avoiding people at the school, because there is always someone here; either practicing out on the field; smoking, making out or selling or buying drugs under the bleachers or just chilling.

But nevertheless the place has become his version of a sanctuary. A stand of grey and red painted concrete, steel girders and plastic where he can come to clear his head or watch the Cheerios practice, which is practically the same. That, Puck notes, is probably the reason to why he started coming here in the first place; the cheerleading squad. He cannot help but to smirk at himself. _Girls . . ._ he mumbles, _have a really strong power over you whether you like it or not._

He remembers the days back in freshman year when Finn and he used to come here and watch the girls practice every now and then. They watched them perfect the pivots, jumps and kicks and everything else coach Sylvester told them to do. She rode them hard, Puck remembers. Always screaming at them and making sure they knew when they did something wrong. "Coach Sylvester resembles the female version of a Spartan commander" he recalls telling Finn once.

The two of them weren't there though because they liked cheerleading itself, no, they were there because of the cheerleaders. Of course they were . . . Quinn Fabray, Santana Lopez and Brittany Pearce; who could resist girls like them?

He closes his eye lids as he tries to picture a normal day hanging out with Finn at the bleachers, checking out girls in short dresses with pompoms in hand.

He smiles despite himself. They were the stereotypic image of American high school boys; good-looking, well-toned football players hitting on pretty and popular cheerleaders. And as by the unwritten rulebook of American high school as it could possibly become, the quarterback, Finn, won the heart of the head cheerleader and the running back, that would be Puck himself, charmed the queen bee's best friend. How cliché.

Not so commonplace is what happened later on though, Puck notes. The QB ditched the queen bee for a show choir diva with dreams only slightly bigger than her humongous nose and the super sexy man-eating second most popular Cheerio turned lesbian. But then let's not forget that this is Lima, Ohio.

He shakes his head slowly. Lima . . . Lima loser, that's what she said he was. A Lima loser. A nobody.

'Hey, dude!'

Abruptly awakened from his daydreaming, Puck instinctively spins his head towards the origin of the sound.

'I've thought about what you said,' Finn says as he walks over to his fellow football team and Glee Club member. 'What we talked about the other day, in my car,' he clarifies as if Puck were the stupid one of the two.

'I remember. I'm not senile, man,' the boy with the Mohawk replies bored and props himself up on his elbows.

The tall brunette sits down beside him. 'Yeah, yeah. I know that.' He squints out over the field. It is empty at the moment, but he knows that the clock is soon turning three which means Cheerios practice.

'So have you reached a conclusion of some kind or did you just come here to catch up on ol' times?' Puck queers and glances over at the door leading to the dressing rooms as it is pushed open by Becky, coach Sylvester's personal assistant and the co-captain of the Cheerios. The short blonde trudges out on the grass with a clapboard and a pen in hand.

Finn chuckles and his eyes grow thin in that characteristic way that they always do when he is a little bit confused or when he tries to think. 'Didn't think you remembered,' he says. 'It was good times though.'

Puck nods slowly. 'For a while, sure.'

The tall quarterback drops his gaze to his lap where his hands are kneading the beige strap of his duffle bag for a short moment. He knows damn well what his friend is referring to.

Puck rakes a hand through the little hair he has on his head before placing his elbow back on the stand to support the weight of his toned body.

'About the whole changing me and all thing,' Finn says after a while, 'I've really thought about it.'

'So you said,' the boy with the Mohawk mumbles and absently scrapes with his right index finger at a flaked spot in the gray paint used to color the otherwise a shade lighter gray concrete flat.

'And I don't think it's a very good idea.' Puck snorts. 'It's not like, like no one would ever want to be like you,' Finn stutters, suddenly feeling a little nervous. 'Because I know a lot of kids at this school that would kill to be as bad-ass and awesome as you are. But . . .' the tall and not too bright quarterback trails off. 'But . . .' Puck glares at him from out of the corner of his eye. Had it been sophomore year he would have punched the guy in the face for talking like this to him.

As a short sequence of silence falls over the two boys, the Cheerios squad walks out on the green grass.

'I love you, dude,' Finn blurts and it isn't without a slight hint of blush on his cheeks. 'I really do, but I don't want to _be like you_. It sounds awful, I know! But, oh, I don't know . . . I think I kind of like who I am. Who I've become.' The brunette gazes at his friend. 'You know?'

Puck glances at Finn, but says nothing. Inwardly though he is desperately screaming, _No! No, I don't know how the fuck it feels to be content with myself, how to like myself. _

'Had it been two years ago, I would have done almost anything to keep my reputation as the coolest dude in school.' Finn licks his lips thoughtfully. 'But I have matured, or at least I like to think that I have.' At that a small lopsided smile sneaks up on Puckerman's lips. He might come across as an irritating and nonchalant jerk, but he isn't cold-hearted. No matter what others will say. 'I don't feel that need to prove myself to everyone anymore.' Finn smiles, but his eyes aren't supporting it. They are absently staring out into the air, watching a movie of bittersweet memories from a long time ago. He has gathered a bunch of them, Puck knows.

'It is strange,' the boy with the Mohawk points out. 'Not seeing her here.' He brushes some scraped off paint flakes from his fingers. The Glee Club co-captain stares out over the field and nods slowly. He hadn't thought about it until now though. But her absence is remarkably noticeable.

'How did all this happen?' Finn asks after a while, but he isn't sure whether the question is meant for Puck or himself.

'What do you mean?'

'All of this.' He throws his arms out. 'Everything. This is not who we used to be.' He turns to face Puck. 'They are not who they used to be. What happened?'

The boy with the Mohawk shakes his head slowly, his forehead wrinkled deep in thought. 'I don't know, man,' he mumbles. 'But I think Glee Club kinda screwed it all up.'

'Is that what you think it was? What it is? A screw up?' Finn queers and there is a little hint of irritation in his voice.

'Some of it,' Puckerman says absentmindedly, then he glances over at Finn. 'Parts of it. Not everything.'

Finn asks, 'Glee Club?'

Puck shrugs. 'I don't know, man. It has . . . changed so much in my life.' He turns back towards the field, where the cheerleaders are building a tower of slim and tanned bodies, Santana on top.

The quarterback nods slowly. The club has changed a lot in his life too. So much that he cannot even bring himself to tick them off. Let alone does he want to think about that it is soon about to end. He glances over at his friend. They have gone so far together, been through so much. Ups and downs, disasters and happiness.

After a while Finn says, 'Quinn?' Puck squints at him. 'Was that one?' the quarterback asks referring to their previous conversation.

Puck gazes down at the football field where the cheerleaders are busy practicing their newest routine with coach Sylvester directing them with a whistle and a megaphone in hand. He can hear her scream "You think this is hard? Try working with an OCD ginger pygmy every day. _That's_ hard!"

'No,' he mumbles. _'This isn't just another hook-up for me,'_ rings in his ears before he pushes his inner voice away. It's just a bittersweet memory now.

'Have you talked to her?' Finn asks.

Puckerman shakes his head. 'Why would I?'

Finn glances at him. Arching an eyebrow he says, 'Because I think you should tell her how you feel.'

Puck snorts. 'And that advice should come from the guy who has been fooling around with every gal in Glee Club except Sugar and Asian number two,' Puck scoffs. 'That's almost in the Puckster league.'

Finn wrinkles his forehead. 'Okay . . . You've got a point. But at least I'm _in _a relationship.' The boy with the Mohawk purses his lips and averts his gaze to the field where the Cheerios are busy practicing for Nationals. That hurt.

* * *

Author's note,

I hope you enjoyed the chapter and if you did please post a review and comment on what you liked :)


	18. I Thought I Could Call You My Friend

Not Making the Same Mistake Again

Summary: Less than four months remain of the school year, for some students it's the last four months at William McKinley High. Therefore it's natural for the kids to want to make the best of the remaining time. However, a lot of things can go wrong in sixteen weeks . . .

Rated Teen for language primarily. There may be some spoilers for the two first seasons of the show as well as the third up until somewhere short after the episode _Hold on to Sixteen_.

I hope you will enjoy reading this multi-character fanfiction as much as I have enjoyed writing it!

I apologize in advance for any incorrect grammar or typo that may occur.

Reviews are very welcome.

Disclaimer: I do_not_ own _Glee_ nor do I own any of its characters. The same goes for anything involving the music mentioned.

End of author's note. Now on to the story!

* * *

_Chapter 18 – I Thought I Could Call You My Friend_

[TUESDAY]

'Question is: what are you willing to do to earn back your uniform?'

It had been gnawing at her ever since she left the office of Sue Sylvester before lunch yesterday. How far was she actually prepared to go to get back on the squad? Was she willing to falsely report to Principal Figgins that Mr. Schuester was making advances on the girls in Glee Club, including herself?

She had stayed up all night contemplating it, weighing advantages and disadvantages. Sure she would get her position on the Cheerios back, possibly even the title as captain, but she would most likely be hated by everyone in Glee Club. Was it worth it?

Quinn had reached the conclusion that it wasn't.

Therefore she had, between first and second period, dropped by Coach Sylvester's office and told the Cheerios coach that she wouldn't do it. The tracksuit clad woman had stared at her in surprise, unable to come up with a response; apparently she had been fairly certain that the former head-Cheerio wouldn't disappoint her.

Now, two hours later, it is with mixed feelings that Quinn exits the room in which she has Spanish and steers her steps towards one of her closest friend's lockers. She is still not entirely sure she made the right decision when she let Coach Sylvester down, but at the same time, she cannot turn her back on a group of people that was there for her when she went through a rough time.

Furthermore, Quinn has only checked off half of the things on today's to-do list. Number one is to talk to Coach Sylvester, two is to turn in her Spanish essay, number three is to confront Santana and number four is to buy her mother a birthday present.

Quinn's former Cheerios teammate is fumbling with the number combination lock when Quinn reaches her.

'Very funny, Santana!' Quinn growls as she walks up to the raven haired girl. She presses her white iPhone against the other girl's chest. 'I honestly thought I could trust you!'

Santana winces at her blonde friend's fierce behavior. Quinn is always the one of the two that's in control. 'What the hell are you talking 'bout, Q?' Santana says, pushing Quinn's hand away.

'You took it!'

'Took what?' Santana says.

'My iPhone, stupid! You told me you didn't take it . . . you swore!'

To Santana Quinn looks like she is high or something. Whatever she's taken, Santana is not going to try it. The blonde is literally freaking her out right now. Or maybe Quinn's drunk . . . The blonde has a tendency to get pretty mean when she is under the influence of alcohol. Or maybe she's gotten knocked up again and this is just the hormones talking.

'Are you preggo again, Q?' Santana queers.

Quinn is completely thrown off track by the unexpected question. 'What?' She blinks. 'No! No, no, of course not!' _What kind of an accusation is that?_ 'How the he—' Quinn stops herself before she can finish the curse. 'How could I be that, huh?' She is staring with burning eyes at Santana. 'No one wants a thing to do with me! Everyone hates me! Everyone! Even that loser Jacob who is obsessed with Rachel!'

Quinn is really pissed off now. When confronting her friend with such an important issue as stealing, the raven haired girl has the guts to accuse her of getting knocked up again, as if she didn't see the pain she had to go through last time.

Santana takes a few steps back. 'I don't know . . . perhaps Trouty Mouth's the father, he's got it bad for you.' She shrugs.' Or Puck got you drunk _again_ and you engaged in a little sexual act. Old habits die hard, you know,' the black haired girl says somewhat sourly. 'You've got the stretch marks to prove it.'

Quinn is completely shocked into silence. _What is happening?_

Santana stares at the blonde girl, who seems to have lost her ability to speak for just a short moment. She knows that what she just said wasn't nice and definitely not fair. She knows how bad Quinn felt when she found out she was pregnant and Santana also knows that it wasn't planned. Puck, that moron, got the blonde drunk on wine coolers and assured her that they wouldn't need any protection, and, well, everybody knows how that went. To be honest Santana wasn't a bit as mad with Quinn as she sometimes pretended to be. The one she was really pissed at was Puck. Not Quinn. Besides, Quinn doesn't even have stretch marks, that's just another lie.

'Okay, sorry,' Santana says after a little while. 'I guess I crossed the line there . . . Didn't mean to drag up all that shit. Sorry.' This time the raven haired girl actually looks like she means what she is saying.

'You'll never stop surprising me, Santana,' Quinn sighs, still not over her shock and definitely not over her rage. 'One second you're really nice to me, telling me I can always trust you, the next I know you steel my iPhone, denies it and then accuses me of being with child again!'

'Woah, woah, woah! Hold on a sec. I never took your damn iPhone to begin with,' Santana says.

Quinn shakes her head. 'I don't believe you. Yesterday it was nowhere to be found and this morning when I woke up it was right there, on the coffee table.'

Santana frowns. 'Well, it wasn't there when I left.'

'You expect me to believe that?' Quinn asks skeptically.

'It's the truth, I'm telling ya! Besides, I would have felt it if it was there last night as Britts and I totally got it on atop of that table,' Santana smirks.

Quinn is rolling her eyes. 'Please tell me you're not being serious, San.' Santana shrugs. 'You're disgusting!'

'It's not like it was the first time we did it at your place . . .'

Quinn holds up a warning hand. 'Just stop it right there. Please!

Santana shrugs again. 'Whatever.'

'Santana, if you didn't take it then you know who did.'

'Ah, come one Q? Why would I? And besides what does it matter now. You got it back, didn't you?

'Yes, but . . . it just matters, okay?

Santana arcs an eyebrow, a suspicious one. 'You have revealing photos or sex-tapes or something on it, huh?'

'No, I do not!' Quinn protests.

'Then why all this drama?'

'I . . .' Santana stares at her intensely, waiting to hear her explanation. 'I've got stuff on it. No sex!' she ads as she sees Santana's face light up. 'But stuff that I don't want certain people to know that I still have, you know.' Quinn blushes a bit but tries to hide it by looking down at her feet.

'Which dude?'

'What?' Quinn asks confused.

'Which of the guys,' Santana repeats, 'don't you want seeing it? Finn? Puck? Mike?' Short pause. '_Sam_?'

_She actually said his name, like his _real _name._ 'It's not important.'

'I believe it is,' Santana pushes.

Quinn continues to stare at her feet, which seem a lot more interesting right now than the girl standing in front of her. Santana picks a few books out of her locker and closes it. 'You don't have to answer anyway,' she says nonchalantly. 'I know already.'

Quinn suddenly looks up.

'It's kinda obvious to me, since I'm your best friend, Q,' Santana continues.

'B, but you—' Quinn stutters.

'I won't say a thing I swear,' Santana insures. 'My lips,' she makes a gesture, dragging her index and thumb along her closed lips, 'are sealed.' The Latina smiles. 'And what concerns that freakin' iPhone of yours, it wasn't there when I left. Swear that's the truth, too.' Santana puts a hand on the left side of her chest.

Quinn can't help but to smile. 'I honestly think I believe you.'

The raven haired girl chuckles. It actually feels good to be nice to someone sometimes. 'I like that. Now tell me who it was?'

'What?'

'Who hung around after I left?'

'Oh . . .'

Santana smirks. 'Trouty Mouth, wasn't it?' she says in a sing song voice.

Quinn's mouth falls open. 'Sch . . .' she hushes the other girl. 'How did you—'

'Saw his phone on the table,' Santana shrugs. 'Did anything happen?'

'What? No, no!' Quinn shakes her head rapidly.

The Latina arcs an eyebrow in distrust at her.

'We started to watch Avatar, but I fell asleep. I guess he got home then,' Quinn shrugs. 'He wasn't there when I woke up.'

Santana is smiling broadly now. 'Then why the heck did you go all Tyra Banks on me, accusing me of taking your fucking iPhone, when it is crystal clear who did it.' Quinn frowns again and Santana rolls her eyes. 'Are you seriously that stupid? God!'

Santana hauls her bag up on her shoulder. As she walks past Quinn she quietly says in the blonde's ear, 'Sammy Evans took it, honey, not me.' Then she leaves.

* * *

- **Meet me at your locker/Rach**

The text rolls into his inbox four minutes before Mr. Schuester announces that the Spanish class is through.

Finn gathers his books and other things and hustles out of the class room. Leaving Mike behind still waiting for an answer about the FIFA tournament he and Puck is throwing later tonight, that he has asked Finn to come to.

'Finn?' the Asian boy calls out one last time, trying to get the attention of the rushed quarterback. Then he turns to Sam and shrugs. 'Guess he's not interested.'

Sam quirks an eyebrow as he glances at the door through which Finn just exited. 'Seems like it . . .'

'You'll come though, won't you?' Mike asks and picks up his books.

Sam smirks. 'Of course, dude.'

'Cool.'

Finn reaches his locker two minutes later. Normally it would take him only a minute to get from Spanish class to his locker but the hall is unusually crowded this morning.

He lets his brown eyes sweep over the faces of the kids passing by. No Rachel. Not yet, at least. Finn unlocks his locker and begins to prop his books back into it. _Someday_, he thinks, _I really need to clean this out. I can barely fit my books into it anymore. Let alone my back pack. Mom would kill me is she saw this mess . . ._

Too caught up in his thoughts the tall boy doesn't even notice the short person that has walked up to him.

'Finn?' he suddenly hears a familiar voice say and he automatically spins around.

'Rach!' he says looking down at the short, brown haired girl. He barely resists the urge to bend down and kiss her.

'Look, Finn,' she mumbles, 'Glee Club is falling apart and they need their leaders to be strong, and to strive in the same direction . . . If we do not deal with this now, we may end up losing members and we _cannot_ afford that whit Regionals approaching . . .'

Finn nods in agreement, though he is not sure what he is agreeing with. He lost track of what she was talking about when she reached the milestone of ten words.

'I, we need to sort this out,' she says and grabs his hands.

Mouth agape he blinks in confusion and then he nods. 'Yeah . . . we do . . .' One day ago she refused to look at him let alone talk to him, now she is eagerly telling him that they as leaders of New Direction need to make sure that the group stays intact.

'Walk with me,' she suggests.

Happy that his girlfriend has buried the hatchet, again, and decided that he is worthy of her company he quickly shoves the last of his books into his lockers and slams the door shut. The bang of the metal sheet door being slammed shut causes Jacob Ben Israel to jump high in the air a couple of feet away.

'Geez, relax, Hudson,' Jacob mutters and strolls off.

'So I have been thinking,' Rachel says linking her arm with his. 'Somehow we need to bring everybody back together. And since we are a show choir what better way are there but to sing about it?' She glances up at Finn with glittering eyes.

'Eh. Yeah. That sounds great, Rach,' Finn comments slowly.

The short girl beams. 'Yes. I know. And I thought that you and I, as the team leaders, should take the lead in maybe _Heaven Is a Place on Earth_. Or what do you think?'

'Uh. I, Rachel, maybe . . . maybe having us singing. It's what we always do, you know.'

'What are you trying to say?' Rachel queers, no longer smiling.

'I mean, you and I, we always sing. If you want to make everybody feel good and stay in Glee, maybe we should let someone else sing?' the tall boy tries while crossing the fingers of his free hand, hoping that his girlfriend won't get angry with him.

Finn watches his comment reach Rachel's understanding and he nervously waits for her reaction to come. But nothing happens. All she does is staring blankly at him.

'Rach?' he queers carefully.

Then after a while, she swallows slowly. 'It, Finn, it's an amazing idea!' she says and reaches up and kisses him on the cheek. She smiles broadly. 'This is why _you_ are the team leader.'

Finn blushes and side hugs her to hide his embarrassment.

'So should we tell Mr. Schue?' she queers. 'Or should we let it be a surprise to him as well?'

The boy smirks. 'Let it be a surprise.' He chuckles. Then his face turns serious again. 'Rach, can I say something?'

She glances up at him surprised. 'Of course you can, babe.'

'If you want to make peace in Glee Club, I think you need to start with the "man in the mirror", if you know what I mean?'

'No, I am not sure that I know what you mean, Finn,' Rachel says slowly.

'You need to work things out with Quinn, Rachel. What you said, it wasn't cool. Nor fair,' the tall, brown haired boy points out. 'You need to apologize to her.'

The short diva nods slowly. She hates to admit it but her boyfriend's got a point. 'I guess you are right . . .' she mumbles quietly.

* * *

Author's note,

Sorry for the late update, but I've been terribly busy lately. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter and please don't forget to let me know what you think :)


	19. Remember Lor Menari?

Not Making the Same Mistake Again

Summary: Less than four months remain of the school year, for some students it's the last four months at William McKinley High. Therefore it's natural for the kids to want to make the best of the remaining time. However, a lot of things can go wrong in sixteen weeks . . .

Rated Teen for language primarily. There may be some spoilers for the two first seasons of the show as well as the third up until somewhere short after the episode _Hold on to Sixteen_.

I hope you will enjoy reading this multi-character fanfiction as much as I have enjoyed writing it!

I apologize in advance for any incorrect grammar or typo that may occur.

Reviews are very welcome.

Disclaimer: I do_not_ own _Glee_ nor do I own any of its characters. The same goes for anything involving the music mentioned.

End of author's note. Now on to the story!

* * *

_Chapter 19 – Remember 'Lor Menari'?_

[WEDNESDAY]

Sam opens his locker and puts his Spanish books. _Two classes left then you can go home and go to bed_, he tells himself and yawns. Spending last night watching the three first _Terminator_ movies wasn't one of his brightest ideas.

Suddenly Sam feels himself being pushed from behind, rather hard. He bumps into the locker door next to his.

'Hey! Watch out where you're standing, loser!' Rick "The Stick" Nelson, captain of the McKinley High hockey team grunts without even looking twice at Sam.

On the inside Sam is fuming. No one gets to treat others like that, unpunished. But the blonde boy soon restrains himself. _You're better than them, man. Just ignore them, they're not worth it. _He gazes after the pack, which is moving down the hall._ If you pick a fight you'll end up getting detention. That equals no sleep in a while . . . and getting involved in a fist fight now is not going to help you get back on the football team._

He turns back to his locker. He's got Algebra next. He reaches for the book, the one with the blue paper back, when the sound of spiteful laughter reaches his ear.

'Hey, babe, I thought you learned your lesson from fooling around with that pansy Puckerman,' Sam can hear Nelson mock and his friends laughing.

'Come one, dude, she used to be a Cheerio. What'd you expect?' he can hear someone else say. 'They're all hoes.'

Sam feels heat rising within him. He knows who their talking to.

An additional hockey player points out, Yeah! They'll freakin' dry-hump anything that's got like . . . two legs. I heard they even practiced grinding in Celibacy Club.' The comment brings down yet another round of laughter.

Sam slams his locker shut, hard. _Fuck this!_

Quickly he walks up to the group of boys that are hovering around the blonde ex-head-cheerleader. He has got his hands closed into tight fists and he is clenching his jaw shut.

Grabbing the leader—Rick, a boy at least ten inches taller than Sam—by the shoulders and swinging him around to stand face to face with him, Sam grunts, 'What the hell are you doing! Leave her alone!' Rick snorts but doesn't have time to say anything before he is knocked to the floor. The rest of the hockey team stands still, momentarily paralyzed with shock.

'What the fuck, dude!' Rick the Stick blurts and jumps back onto his feet. A split second later he is launching himself at Sam, his closed fist swinging at the blonde boy's face. It only half hits its target though.

Sam grabs the brown haired boy and shoves him against the wall.

'My God! Sam!' Quinn hisses.

The blonde boy leans in close to hockey team captain. Through gritted teeth he hisses, 'If you as much as look at her again, I'll kill you.'

The brown haired boy sniffs again. 'Face it, dude. You are just an old lay to her. Like every fucking else on that wimpy football team.' He smiles mockingly.

'Shut up!' Sam roars as he slams Rick against the wall again, this time even harder.

Rick smirks teasingly. 'Oh, I think I hit a nerve—'

The boy never gets to finish the sentence before Sam's fist make yet another encounter with his face. The punch splits Rick's lower lip and sends a spray of blood from his face.

With all his force Rick pushes Sam away from him and then he throws himself over the blonde boy, sending them both to the ground.

The rest of the hockey team stands immobile as they watch the showdown between their captain and the blonde dude from Glee Club.

'Oh my God! Sam!' Quinn gasps as Rick's fist bounces off of Sam's face, sending a spray of blood onto the floor. Sam's right eyebrow has split into two, crimson now flooding down his cheek.

From the corner of his eye Sam can see the blonde girl standing a few feet away. She is covering her mouth with a slender hand, her eyes wide with dismay.

The other boys from the hockey team are wearing expressions that are matching Quinn's. None of them wanting to neither step into the fight nor break it off. At any other given day Sam would count on the rest of the team to back up their chief, but for some reason they seem to be unable to reach to action today.

Sam coughs and spits some blood on the floor before he gathers strength enough to kick Rick off of him.

Now straddling the captain of the hockey team Sam lets his fists connect with the taller boy's face. One. Two. Three times.

Sam's vision is beginning to blur. And he is not sure whether it's because of the thick blood that is flooding over his eye or if it's due to the multiple hits he has received to the head. But from the corner of his eye Sam spots Quinn moving towards him.

'Sam,' she gasps terrified. 'Stop. Please, Sam. Stop it!' There is moist, confusion, anger and fear in her eyes, all at the same time.

One of the guys from the circle surrounding the fight scene laughs, though it's a strained one, 'Listen to your girl now, Blonde Bieber. Or you'll get you sorry ass kicked.'

'Shut up!' Nelson growls. Obviously he can see that he is at a disadvantage.

Suddenly another voice breaks in, a voice Sam knows does not belong to any of the boys on the hockey team. 'What the hell is going on here!' coach Beiste grunts. 'Break it up! Right _now_!

Not willing to be the first to give in neither Sam nor Rick follows orders.

'Evans! Nelson!' Beiste orders and Sam can feel a strong hand grab him by the neck and pull him up. But judging by the origin of Beiste's voice she is not the one yanking him up.

'Sam. Stop it right now!' he can hear Mr. Schuester holler from just behind him.

Coach Beiste jerks Rick up and holds him firmly by both arms so that he won't be able to pull any tricks.

'_What on earth _is going on here?' Mr. Schue says, skipping his gaze from Sam to Rick, over to Quinn and back to Sam. '

No one says a word. Never before have the halls of McKinley High been so quiet.

'You two,' Beiste growls and throws a quick glance at both the young men, 'clean up. Then move your sorry asses to the principal's office.' She orders and starts to drag Rick the Stick with one of her manly hands towards the boy's bathroom.

As soon as Coach Beiste and Rick leave, the hockey team trails off. Sam is left with Quinn and Mr. Schue. The latter firmly staring at the blonde boy.

'Go clean off. And have that gash checked out, Sam,' Schue sternly says, his arms folded in front of his chest. Then he glances at the shocked Quinn. 'Are you okay?' he asks in a much more gentle tone, though the irritation is still there.

Sam can see Quinn nod absentmindedly and he figures that she most still be pretty shaken up after what just went down.

Mr. Schue nods and then he says, 'Don't hesitate to come to me, Quinn,' this is said in such a low voice that Sam can barely pick it up and that is probably the point, he figures.

After having said that, Mr. Schue leaves the two blondes and heads towards the personnel room.

Sam glances towards Quinn who just at the same time levels her gaze to look at him. _Those eyes_. 'You—'

'Should clean that off,' she finishes and walks up to him. By putting a hand under his arm she leads him to the Cheerios' private bathroom. The one which you can only gain entrance to if you are on the squad. But Sam has been there before, with Quinn.

When they are inside Quinn grabs a towel from the rack and wets it under the tap. Meanwhile Sam sits down on the stool that for some reason is standing outside one of the stalls, that by the way is at least twice as big as the stalls in the regular bathrooms at this school.

'Can't we get into trouble for being here?' he asks, referring to the fact that they are in the Cheerios' _private_ bathroom.

Quinn turns around. She walks up to him and carefully she starts dabbing the piece of cloth against his right eyebrow. 'I don't think that this will change anything for you. I believe you are already in deep trouble as it is,' she says quietly.

He winces as the cotton scratches his wound. 'I wasn't really thinking about me,' he mumbles and smiles wryly, despite the piercing pain.

_Oh, Sam Evans, always the gentleman!_

He watches her lick her lips. And he remembers that to be a nervous habit of hers.

'I, I have rejoined the squad,' she stutters and he can hear an ounce of pride deep down in her voice.

'You have? God, I'm glad for you, Q. _Ouch_!' he flinches.

'Oh, you're such a wimp,' she giggles and walks back to the sink where she rinses the blood out of the towel and then wrenches the water out of it. Then she comes back to him. 'Does it hurt a lot?' she queers as she puts her hand under his chin and tips his head to the side to get a better view at the gash. 'You really should get that checked out.'

Sam snorts theatrically. 'I've been in more pain. I had my shoulder dislocated during my first month here at McKinley, remember?'

For a second she holds his eyes. 'Yes. I do remember that,' she mumbles and then she returns her focus to the still bleeding gash. 'It cost you your position as starting quarterback.'

He offers a small but pained smile. 'See.'

'That's no excuse though. You still need someone to take a look at that. It looks quite nasty,' Quinn point out as she leans in closer to examine the wound.

Sam catches his breath as she leans forward and her cute, low-cut, dress reveals a little bit more skin than she's probably aware of.

_Ice. Think ice, Sam. And crying children_. _And war. _

And then there is that smell; strawberry and vanilla. He inhales deeply and it makes him think about the last time they were in this room, it causes him to smile broadly.

'What's so funny?' Quinn asks while quirking an eyebrow.

He smirks. 'I just remembered the last time I was here.' He glances up at her.

His smirk widens inwardly to a full blown smile when he watches her wrinkle her forehead and say, 'After you got slushied the first time.'

Sam nods.

'Blueberry.'

'The worst flavor 'cause it makes you look like an Avatar down there . . .' he quotes.

Now she is smiling too. She cannot believe he actually remembered all that.

She turns around and pulls out another towel, this one dry and clean from blood. She dabs it against his wet cheeks and then even more carefully against his split eyebrow. 'Why did you do it?' she suddenly asks, but by how she lets the words roll off her tongue he figures that she has been considering it for quite some time now.

'Because you matter,' Sam's answer comes. He is smiling wryly. She drops her gaze to the floor and bites down on her lip. 'I don't care what they say, you know that, huh? If you say nothing happened then nothing happened. Okay?'

He can see the slightest of quirks at the corners of her mouth, as if a smile is about to break out but something makes it stop from spreading to a full blown smile.

'I am proud of you, Quinn,' he says and stands up. 'And you're right. I think I need to get this patched up,' he notes as a drop of blood lands on his white shoe. She nods and drops the bloody towels into the waste bin.

Just when he is about to open the door for them, he stops and turns to her. Finally he is setting free what's been on his mind for the past ten minutes, ever since they entered the Cheerios bathroom. 'You remember what I said, don't you?' he bites down on his lip. 'About your eyes.'

She glances at him for a short moment before she drops her gaze. 'Maybe,' she mumbles and pushes the door open. She walks past him, keeping her head low and her face out of view for him. But despite her attempt at hiding it he can see the blush that is spreading across her cheeks. Inwardly he high-fives himself. 'Lor menari,' he whispers quietly as she walks away from him.

* * *

Two hours a day for five days that equals ten hours in total. And that is the amount of detention hours Principal Figgins ordered. Considering that Rick Nelson ended up with a broken nose and a severe concussion the punishment could have been much worse.

He lowers his head into his hands. He is the only kid in detention today and the woman, whatever her name is, that is on detention duty today—Sam believes that it might be the same woman that works in the library, but he is not sure—is not even letting him chew gum, let alone listen to music. He sighs heavily again and buries his face deeper into his hands.

_Six hundred minutes, thirty six thousand seconds, then you're a free man again._

Sam is so busy counting seconds and wishing for time to move faster that he doesn't notice the woman who steps into the room. She walks up to the woman on detention duty and whispers something in her ear and soon the gray haired librarian leaves the room.

As Sam hears the sound of footsteps steering towards him he sighs. _What is she going to whine about now? _He doesn't even bother to look up.

A chair is dragged from the desk next to his and placed opposite him. The stool gives away a quiet creak as the woman sits down.

He can hear heavy breaths coming from the only other person in the room. Like the once you make when you're having the flue and try to breathe through your nose. They are annoying as hell and he feels the urge to tell the old woman to leave him alone. But then the woman clears her throat and Sam realizes that it is not the old gray insipid librarian that is sitting opposite him.

'Tell me why, Evans, I shouldn't be sending your skinny ass back to Kentucky,' the woman says in a deep and firm tone.

Sam snaps his head up from its resting place in his hands. 'Coach Beiste! Uh, I . . . uh . . .'

The football coach sends him a look that could have broken almost any tough boy down.

He swallows hard. 'He, Rick and his thugs, they were being total jerks and I told them to back off bu—'

'Hold it right there, Evans,' Beiste interrupts him. Her eyes are narrowed and her brows are furrowed. 'You threw the first punch according to Nelson. Correct?'

Sam clenches his jaw. _How to explain this?_ 'Uh, yes, ma'am. Bu—'

'And you are aware of that he ended up at the hospital with a broken nose and a concussion?'

The blonde boy nods slowly. He does not regret what he did, but that doesn't make the bad feeling in his stomach, over hurting someone that bad, go away.

He can feel the eyes of the tough football coach burn holes through his skin and tear at his flesh. 'I am still waiting for your explanation, Evans?' she says.

Sam glances down at his hands—they are still sore from the fight but most of the cuts have stopped bleeding though they easily crack open again if he makes an attempt a closing his fists—and tries to swallow the lump in his throat, but it refuses to go away. 'I, it's just that . . . they were being assholes, harassing her like that. I, I told them to stop.' He drags a ragged breath. 'But they, you know, they just wouldn't stop. An . . . and I couldn't just stand there and watch . . .'

Coach Beiste narrows her eyes even more. 'They were picking on Quinn Fabray?' Sam could sense the disbelief in her voice. To most people Quinn is still the most popular person at McKinley High despite her not being a Cheerio anymore . . . or well, now she is again, she just told him, but before that . . .

Sam sighs. _How much can I tell her?_ he asks himself. 'She, uh, she . . . maybe you heard—'

'Get to the point, Evans.'

'Someone leaked photos of her and Mr. Eaton, insinuating that they were having an affair,' Sam spills, his heart aching from having to tell. 'Which they definitely aren't,' he quickly adds.

Beiste wrinkles her forehead and leans back in her chair. Apparently she had been unaware of the rumors. She drags a deep breath and then she leans forward, towards Sam. Her enormous hands are clasped on the desk in front of her.

'Look at me, Evans,' she says and out of respect for the powerful woman Sam does as she's says. 'I have been young too, you know. I wasn't pretty or popular like Ms. Fabray, but I was young nevertheless. And I don't know what issues you guys are dealing with today but we had our own back then.'

She makes a pause for effect and Sam can finally let out the breath he didn't know he was holding. He had though the manly gym teacher was going to lash out at him for beating Rick up.

'I know it isn't easy being a teenager and I also know that what you did—standing up for that girl—means a lot to her.' She looks at him with eyes as hard and cold as usual but her voice isn't the same, it is actually kind of sweet. 'And I suppose that this is not what Figgins wants me to say, but I think you did the right thing,' she says, rises and pats him on the shoulder. 'I am pound of you, Evans.'

He has to blink a couple of times while he lets the words sink in. _Man, nothing's what you expect today. _Then he comes to think of something and he calls out for coach Beiste just as she is about to leave the room. 'Is there any chance, I mean if there's a spot open, that I could, perhaps, come back to the team?'

He watches her mull the question over. 'You've got heart, kid, and that's the kind of guys I want on my team.' A smile starts to spread across the blonde boy's face. '_But_, if you think I am just going to give you a spot, you are wrong.'

'Of course not, ma'am. I'll have to go through a try out,' Sam breathes.

Shannon Beiste contemplates the young man's words. 'In that case. Try out starts on Monday. Be there at 3 P.M.,' she says.

'Yes, ma'am.'

But right before she is about to step out of the room she turns back to face Sam. 'And, Evans, call me Coach.' Then she leaves.

Sam's face breaks out into a wide grin as the door drifts close behind the bulky woman.

_Watch out Finn Hudson 'cause Sam Evans's got his mind set on starting quarterback this season, haha._

A throat clears. 'Detention means _no_ speaking, _no_ laughing, _no_ music and _no_ smiling. Understood?' a shrill voice snaps. The gray librarian is back from her coffee break with the reaper.

'Got it,' Sam responds and leans back into his chair. Detention just got a lot easier to cope with. _Let's go Titans!_

* * *

Returning to McKinley High was great. Having his family moving back to Lima was awesome. And getting to borrow his father's beat up truck is freaking wonderful. It's not that he values the old rusty truck over his family, but not having to ask Finn or Burt for a ride every time he has to get somewhere is a nice change. Taking the bus, well it isn't that horrible, but it's really cool to get to drive off in your own vehicle whenever you want and pick up whatever friend you want. Don't get it wrong though, what Finn and his family did for him, you cannot put a prize on it. It was an act of pure kindness. Something Sam will never forget. Sure Finn and he have had their moments when the only thing they wanted was to bust the other guy's face in, but they have also had good moments. Finn was Sam's first friend at McKinley; the one who taught him what teacher's to avoid eye contact with in class, what guys to stay away from and what girls that were available.

He has a lot of things to thank Finn for, Sam thinks to himself as he makes a mental note to figure out a way to show the tall brunette how thankful he is and how lucky he is to have made friends with him.

Speaking of friends, Sam is on his way to one of his best friends right now. He makes a left turn and pulls to a stop outside a one story family house. The neighborhood isn't exactly one of Lima's nicest, but somehow Sam finds it very homey. He likes it here. Or maybe it's just because he likes the company.

Puck and him, well, during the last couple of months somehow they have grown a lot closer. Safe to say, they are really good friends now. Funny isn't it? Sam did after all step right into the halls of McKinley high and stole Puck's girlfriend just a little over a year ago.

He turns off the engine. _I'm so gonna kick their sorry asses at FIFA tonight!_ He tells himself and snorts.

Knowing Puck and the others, if they are already here, will be in Puck's room at the back of the house, Sam jumps the knee-high fence and trudge around the house to the backyard porch. The patio door is unlocked so he turns the doorknob and walks in. Laughter and whistles and calls of the "Foul play, man!", "Suck on that, loser!" and "You cheated!"-kind is ringing down the hall from Puck's room.

He doesn't bother to knock, they probably won't hear him anyway, so he just walks in, catching Puck and Mike in the middle of playing FIFA. Mike just scored his second goal while Puck was still trying to score his first goal. _Man, is Puck gonna get grumpy over that_, he says to himself and smirks. If there is one thing he knows, it is that Noah Puckerman hates to lose.

'Oh, Lady Lips, what a lovely surprise!' Puck says with fake enthusiasm just as his team loses the ball to one of Mike's players. 'Fuck!' the Mohawed guy grunts.

'You missed me, honey?' Sam teases as he drops down next to Mike on the old and worn couch.

'It's that obvious?' the other boy continues and flashes one of his most flirtatious grins.

Winking Sam says, 'You know it is, babe.'

'Oh, come on you guys!' Mike calls. 'You kinda creep me out!'

'There is room for you too,' Puck proceeds to tease.

The Asian boy shakes his head. 'Well, thanks, man. But I'm kinda taken.'

'Whatever.' Puck shrugs. 'Your loss.' Sam nods in agreement.

'You two definitely need girlfriends!' Mike sighs and tosses the Xbox control to Sam. 'Your turn. Title game in the League of Losers.'

Puck scoffs.

'Sorry? What was that?'

'You cheated, Chang!' Puck mutters.

'Now you're just being a baby, Puckerman,' Mike mocks and leans back against the head rest. He pops a can of Coke open.

'You call me that ever again and—'

Sam interjects. 'Hey! Cool it off, man. He's just kidding.'

'Whatever . . .' Puck grunts and pick a team for the game. 'Your turn, Guppy Face.'

Sam rolls his eyes. 'Since when did you adopt all of Santana's _very_ witty nicknames for me? Kind of getting the feeling you're one and the same person. Just changing shape and gender . . . The Shapeshifter.'

'Hey, comic book freak, why'd I want to change into _her_ body, when I could pick anyone else's? Puck says and arcs a brow.

'First of all, the Shapshifter's not from a real comic. He's a made up comic book villain from the book _Killer on the Road_.' Puck lifts both his eyebrows in a grimace of disinterest. 'Second, Santana's got a rockin' body. She's hot. You can't deny that.'

'Yeah, but would you pick her over . . . say . . . _Quinn_?' Puck says and watches Sam.

'They're both good looking. But that's not—' Sam stutters.

'That's not what I asked?' Puck says.

'Puck,' Mike chimes in.

Sam takes a deep breath and then licks his lips. 'I, I don't know . . .'

Puck sniffs. 'Yeah, right.'

Once again Mike tries to get a word in. 'Come on, guys. The game.'

The room goes quiet for a second or two before Puck speaks up. 'I'm so gonna kick your skinny ass, dude.'

Sam snorts. 'Yeah, we'll see 'bout that . . .'

Puck didn't do that much ass kicking though. He won however, though only with one goal, made in the very last minute of the game.

'So whose up for a another one?' Sam queers, feeling the need of at least winning one game before they put the Xbox aside.

Mike says, 'Guess I am.' Then he smiles. 'Hand me the Xbox-control and I'll show you how to play soccer!'

Sam snorts, then chuckles and does as Mike has told him.

Just as they are about to kick off, there is a light knock on the door soon followed by another, a little firmer knock. The three boys exchange glances. They aren't expecting anyone else to come.

'Probably your mom,' Sam says as he gets up and grabs a can of Coke.

Puck nods. 'Yep. Quite a party crasher.' Then a bit louder he calls, 'Yeah. Come in.'

The door cracks open but it's not Puck's mother that pops her head inside. It's Finn. 'Hey, guys,' he says.

'Finn? Thought you were going to hang out with Rachel tonight?' Mike asks surprised. He had asked Finn to join them, but the quarterback had seemed more up in the blue than usual and then he had just run out of the room.

'Yeah, uh, I was. But she got, you know, kinda tied up. Said her dads had planned some family dinner or something,' the tall brunette explains while kneading his neck. A nervous habit? No. Just something he tends to do whenever he has to talk. He isn't exactly the guy with the gift of words, you know . . .

'Bummer,' Puck mumbles, not very interested in Finn and Rachel's relationship.

'Take a seat,' Mike says and motions for Finn to sit down next to him. 'Watch me bring Sammy Evans here back down to earth.'

Finn chuckles. 'Yeah, that shouldn't be too hard.'

'Hey, what do you mean with that?' Sam exclaims and throws a pillow at the tall quarterback.

Finn shrugs. 'You kinda suck, dude.' Mike and Puck both do nothing to suppress their giggles.

Sam squints at them. 'Thanks for the support, guys.'


	20. Reconciliation of Frenemies

Not Making the Same Mistake Again

Summary: Less than four months remain of the school year, for some students it's the last four months at William McKinley High. Therefore it's natural for the kids to want to make the best of the remaining time. However, a lot of things can go wrong in sixteen weeks . . .

Rated Teen for language primarily. There may be some spoilers for the two first seasons of the show as well as the third up until somewhere short after the episode _Hold on to Sixteen_.

I hope you will enjoy reading this multi-character fanfiction as much as I have enjoyed writing it!

I apologize in advance for any incorrect grammar or typo that may occur.

Reviews are very welcome.

Disclaimer: I do_not_ own _Glee_ nor do I own any of its characters. The same goes for anything involving the music mentioned.

End of author's note. Now on to the story!

* * *

_Chapter 20 – Reconciliation of Frenemies_

[THURSDAY]

She can hear the sound of heals clattering against the linoleum floor—flats, maybe ballerinas, given by the sound—and judging by the rapid pace and the slight stomp whoever they belong to are not in a very shiny mood. _Oh boy . . ._

'Quinn. We need to talk,' the short diva, which the ballerina flats belong to, says. The blonde girl sighs, not in the mood of being yelled at again.

'Look, I don't know how to put this.' Rachel licks her lips. 'I mean, it is not just my fault, you are as guilty to this as I am. I mean, if you had not cheated on Finn with Puck and on Sam with Finn, or slept with Puck—gotten pregnant—or gone out with Mr. Eaton, none of this would have happened . . .' Rachel's voice slowly dies out as she notices the irritated look on Quinn's face. Apologizing has never been a thing she has been good at.

_Probably because I am always right—well, almost—and never have to beg for forgiveness . . ._

'I am so sorry. I didn't mean that," Rachel says quietly.

Quinn turns her head to the side, signaling that she is getting bored by this conversation, or monolog, rather. As much as she would like an apology from Rachel—a sincere one this time—she does know that the short diva has a tendency to turn situations to her own advantage.

'Quinn, please . . . I'm sorry. Okay?' Rachel says and stares at the blonde girl with her eyebrows knitted together. She kind of resembles a sad puppy with that face going on.

Quinn clears her throat. 'I have . . . I have not always been . . . nice to you.' _Uh-hu, _nice_. Yep, that's exactly the right word. Nice. _'So I guess that I might deserve this.' She chews her lower lip. 'So, I suppose I forgive you.'

Rachel's knitted eyebrows and pursed lips turns somewhat more relaxed as Quinn stutters out the last line. She lets out a relieved sigh. _Mission accomplished._

'But don't you even imagine that I will forget what you said,' Quinn points out in a firm tone while turning back to her locker. The brunette nods understandingly and rubs the sole of her ballerina flat against the linoleum carpet.

'What?' Quinn blurts and throws a quick glance over her shoulder.

'Will you come back to Glee Club,' Rachel asks gingerly. 'I don't feel overly excited about telling you this, but you need to know that _we_ need you, Quinn.' Rachel absentmindedly turns the ring on her left ring finger. When Quinn doesn't reply, the short brunette leaves.

The blonde has been absent from Glee Club ever since the rumor about Mr. Eaton and her started spreading.

As Quinn hears the sound of Rachel's shoes against the floor disappear down the hall she lets out a shaky breath that she didn't even know she was holding. _Rachel Berry asked me for forgiveness,_ she welters in her head. _Rachel freakin'-Barbra-Streisand-I-am-always-right Berry. Oh gosh,_ she sighs.

Next up is literature class so she collects her literature book and her copy of _The Tell Tale Heart_ by Edgar Allen Poe. She pokes around in her locker for a pen that is still working when her hand comes across something cubical with a smooth surface. She withdraws it and realizes that she is now holding in her hand the white velvet clad box that Sam presented to her—propped down on one knee—in the Astronomy room last fall.

For some inalienable reason her heart rate speeds up as she slowly opens the box. The ring is still there, a simple silver one, yet so beautiful.

'Hey, Q! You better get your pretty white Cheerios ass over here if you want to make it to the class in time,' Santana calls down the hall and the unexpected sound of the raven haired girl's voice startles Quinn and almost makes her drop the small box.

'I'll be right behind you,' she calls back, but her voice is so thin that there is no way Santana can hear it. She closes the box quickly and places it at the rear back of her locker. Then she props her geometry and English books in front of it.

Shutting her locker and locking it up she strokes the back of her right hand against her cheeks, only to realize that they are wet. _Oh, perfect, _she sighs and wipes at her eyes before she heads for the class room.

* * *

The locker-room is completely deserted of people as he strolls in to get a decent ball from the supply. Usually there is always someone here either because they're slow when it comes to taking off their gear and hitting the showers after practice or because there is almost always someone who's getting some extra practice in the gym. But today coach Beiste has decided to drop the practice in order for the boys to get some well needed rest. _And certainly it is needed_, Puck notes as he feels his entire body aching from bending over and picking up a good football from the box were Beiste stores them.

'Perhaps you should listen to the coach next time instead prompting on an extra practice . . .' he mutters to himself as he exits the locker-room.

The field is long ago free of snow and most of the ground frost has begun to thaw. It makes the field pretty muddy but still playable. Besides, Puck actually likes it when it's muddy because it makes him look a lot cooler when he walks off the field dirty, sweaty and sometimes even bloody. _And appearance is important. It is what the whole food chain of popularity and status builds upon. That and fear. But mostly appearance, otherwise Finn Frankenteen Hudson wouldn't be the top dog around here – the guy is about as scary and awe-inspiring as a cucumber. No . . . the cucumber is definitely more appalling, _the boy with the Mohawk speculates as he jumps the fence that surrounds the football field. Had he wanted to he could have just used the gate about a hundred feet down east of him, but jumping the fence is a lot more badass.

He turns the ball over in his hands as he leans against the bright yellow goal post. The big empty football field is spreading out in front of him and behind the bleachers you can get a glimpse of the roof of the main building of McKinley High. _It's pretty crazy I'm leaving all this behind in just a few months, if my grades aren't too bad . . ._ he points out to himself. _You're graduating, man. Freakin' graduating!_

It's been a couple of very interesting years, that Puck cannot deny. Never had he thought that by the time he would be graduating he would have dated the most popular girl in school—that'd be Quinn—and the most annoying one—that spot belongs to Rachel, definitely—and the most badass one—Lauren—and be able to say that he had actually been truly in love with all three of them. Well, there is Santana too, but he never really loved her. He was just in it for the sex, and damn good sex too. And sure he had had a short fling with Mercedes, but that was only to improve his position on the popularity scale.

_And I should probably mention Shelby—who happens to be Rachel's biological mother. How freaky isn't that?—but that was . . . what was it really? Just a fling? No, it was more than that. But did I truly love her? _Whenthinking about it, he reaches the conclusion that he didn't._ Then why was I even with her? I had good reasons to have been with both Santana and Mercedes – but Shelby? Maybe it was only an excuse to get closer to Beth—no, now I'm babbling off-topic._

But dating—ahem sleeping with—pretty much every girl at school isn't the only thing he can put on his resume from high school. Becoming a father, being sent to Juve and being a part of the incredulously unpopular Glee Club definitely classifies as things he didn't think he'd do during his years at William McKinley High.

When he is the most caught up with reprising his time at McKinley High he feels a strong hand being put on his shoulder. Involuntarily he twitches and rapidly spins around.

'Hey, dude! Relax,' the guy says and hold his hands up in defense, then he chuckles, 'but you should have seen you face, man! It was epic!'

Puck reaches out and boxes the blonde boy in the shoulder. 'Not funny, Fish Face. Not epic,' he mutters and begins to walk towards the center of the field.

'Hey, I'm sorry, dude. Okay? Why are you so grumpy?' Sam asks as he jogs up to Puck's side.

The boy with the Mohawk sighs loudly before he turns his head towards the blonde. 'I'm _not _grumpy.'

'If you say so . . .' Sam teases and shrugs.

The ironic comment causes Puck to spin around and take a step towards Sam. His whole body is tensing up and he can feel how his blood is beginning to boil. But somewhere then his subconscious kicks in and drowns the strong impulse he just felt to beat the living shit of the cocky blonde southern boy. Instead he turns back around and continues his walk towards the center of the field.

When he reaches his goal he turns around to face Sam again, who has come to a stop a couple of feet behind him. He studies the blonde boy from top till toe then he scoffs. 'You seriously think Beiste's gonna put you back on the team looking like that?'

Sam frowns and glances down at his figure. 'What do you mean?' he queers confused. _I'm not _that_ fat . . . it's just . . . damn those Doritos!_

Then Puck bursts out into laughter. 'Well, actually there's nothing wrong with your body. I mean, if Finn can get a position on the team with his manboobs then you definitely should have a jersey. But with that self-esteem, man – you never gonna make it,' he points out as he turns the football in his hands. 'Just sayin'.'

'Funny, Puckerman,' Sam mutters and looks away. When it comes to messing with his confidence there is no better way than to comment on his body, his self-esteem or his lips, and unfortunately for Sam pretty much everyone at school, including the teachers, seems to know this.

Upon seeing the blonde boy's reaction Puck smirks. 'Uh-oh. Someone's got a frowny face!' he mocks and chuckles.

'Just shut up Puck or I'll beat you up too,' Sam mumbles under his breath and shoves his hands into his pockets.

'As if you would stand a chance,' Puck pushes, but frankly he is not sure that he would last very long in a fight with Sam. _The dude's got a pretty ripped body._

'Ask Stickhead,' Sam spits and clenches his jaw. The stress and emotional roller coaster of the last couple of days has begun to tear at him and it is making him edgy.

'Is it that time of the month?' Puck teases as he notices that Sam is a bit more irritable than he usually is. To be honest the blonde boy is tranquility personified at any other day.

'Drop it, Puck. Seriously!' Sam growls and it looks as if he is about to grind down his perfect teeth.

Puck holds up his hands in defense. 'Okay. Okay, lady, I'll drop it.' Then he narrows his eyes. 'But seriously, tell me what happened with Rick The Stick.'

The word usually spreads around the school pretty fast but somehow the whole incident with Sam and the hockey team captain Rick "The Stick" Nelson, which went down in the corridor, had passed Puck by completely. Sure he had heard muffled whispers here and there about a fight or something like that and that someone had had to seek medical attention, but who it was he hadn't been told.

Sam sighs as he pokes with his foot at a loose clod. He has still got his hands buried deep in his jacket pockets.

'Dude, you're killin' me! Come on, tell me!' Puck exhorts. Usually he doesn't give a fuck about other people's business but when it comes to scrimmage with the morons in the hockey team, he is always interested.

'We got into a fight,' the blonde boy says and shrugs.

Puck arcs a brow. '_You_ don't just get into fights, man. Not when you can have your lady lips and that blonde Bieber thatch messed up.'

Sam shoots him a warning glance. 'Not funny,' he mutters.

Rolling his eyes theatrically Puck sighs and then says, 'Okay. Not funny.' Then he pouts as he examines the blonde boy's person. 'He's the one they're gossiping about, right? The one that ended up at the ER?'

After a short moment Sam nods, his head is lowered and his hands are still buried deep in his pockets. His whole figure is screaming defensiveness and guilt.

'You gonna tell me why you beat him up?' Sam turns is head to the side and stares out into the distance. 'No?' Puck queers and wrinkles his forehead.

A long period of silence passes before Puckerman speaks up again. 'You know what I've realized?' Without waiting for an answer from Sam he continues. 'Pretty much every time you have gotten into a fight, it's been for the same reason.'

The blonde boy has gone back to intensively staring at his worn out Converse All Stars.

With a weak lopsided smile Puck asks, 'Was she there?'

Sam doesn't reply, but judging by his sudden twitch Puck takes it that he hit the mark.

The boy with the Mohawk sighs and smiles wearily. 'She's worth fighting for though . . .'

The blonde boy shifts his weight over to his other foot before he turns his eyes to look at Puck. 'Are we gonna practice or are you gonna play Dr. Phil with me all day?' he mocks in a half-successful attempt of ending the conversation.

Puck shrugs and nonchalantly tosses the football over to Sam. 'You're the one who needs practice – I'm already perfect.'

Sam scoffs and throws the ball back, a little harder than Puck had. 'That's how you wanna play, Lady Lips? I'll show you how it's done,' Puck teases and backs a few feet before he sends the ball through the air back to Sam.

'You throw like an old lady!' Sam shoots back as he sends the ball, even harder, back to the brown haired boy.

'I'm sorry but I think you must have me confused with Frankenteen.'

Sam chuckles. 'You've got manboobs too?' he counters with a devious smirk.

Puck snorts. 'Me? No, no, no!' He pulls up his shirt. 'Take a look at these babes. There's not a single dude at this school that can beat this six-pack and this chest.' He proudly pats his well-toned abs.

The blonde scoffs and arcs a skeptic eyebrow. 'They're nothing compared to these.' He pulls up his shirt as well and flexes his gorgeous abs.

Puck bridles but just as he is about to drop yet another cocky comment, a voice behind him stops him.

'I totally knew it!' A croaking male voice—someone's having a late puberty voice change?—blurts out. 'Sam Evans is _so_ gay!' The boy laughs. 'Wait till I'll post this on my blog! Sam Evans heart Noah Puckerman!'

'Jewfro . . .' Sam mutters bitterly. His previous encounters with this kid resulted in the whole school thinking that he was gay and dating Kurt and later that he was cheating with Quinn, who back then was still a part of Fuinn 2.0. Or was it 3.0?

The afro haired pimpled boy smirks devilishly. 'Samuel Evans,' he greats.

Puck takes a step towards Jacob. Through gritted teeth he growls. 'I swear on my late grandmother's grave that if you as much as breaths _anything_ about _this_ I will haunt you down and when I'm through with you,' he chuckles devilishly, 'you'll have to slurp your food through a straw for the rest of the _year_.'

'You don't scare me, Puckerman,' Jacob points out confidently. 'Your time as king of the hill at this school is _o-ver_.' The irritating boy fishes up a recording device from his pocket and swings it in front or Puck's face. 'And _I _got it all on tape—'

Just as Jacob is about to finish the sentence with an ugly smirk Puck launches forward and knocks the AV-clubber to the muddy ground. It doesn't take him long to get Jacob exactly where he wants him, curled up in fetal position begging for Puck not to hit him. Whilst straddling the pathetic nerd Puck grabs Jacob's shirt and pushes him harder to the ground by his shoulders. 'The tape,' he orders with a firm tone. Jacob shakes his head. 'Give. Me. The. Fucking. Tape,' he spits and leans in closer to Jacob's ugly face.

'Puck,' Sam says and looks around to see if anyone is observing them. 'Let him go.'

But the residential bad boy has a reputation to live up to and this; well, _this_ is just yet another way to prove that Noah Puckerman is still king of the hill.

Reluctantly Jacob hands the recording device to Puck as he covers his face with the other hand, afraid that if he doesn't the next thing he will feel is Puck's fist making an impact on his nose. His apprehension never gets fulfilled though as he feels the weight of the other boy being removed from him.

Puck is now standing up and staring down at the boy, where he is lying in the mud. 'You,' Puck grunts, 'are _pathetic_. Now, get out of my sight,' he says as he drops the recording device to the ground and crushes it under the sole of his combat boot.

The schools gossip crawls to his knees and slowly rises—making sure that nothing is broken—before he hurriedly leaves the field. As he reaches the fence that separates the football field from the school's parking lot he turns around and sends one evil glance at Puck and Sam.

_I am so going to pay for this_, Puck notes as he knows that if it is someone that can make your life a living hell, it is Sue Sylvester, Coach Beiste—though that is often in a good way—and that little punk Jacob Ben Israel.

As Puck turns back to face Sam, he finds that the blonde boy has walked away, towards the bleachers. Puck jogs up to him and puts a hand on his shoulder. 'You forgot we're supposed to practice pitches?' he teases.

Sam sighs and drops down on the player's pew. 'Kinda lost my inspiration.'

Puck sinks down next to him. 'It hasn't got anything to do with what Jewfro said, does it?' he queers hesitantly.

The blonde boy shakes his head and snorts. 'I'm getting pretty used to people thinkin' I'm gay.'

Knitting his eyebrows together in confusion Puck asks, 'Why?'

Sam scoffs. 'My first day in Glee Club,' he grows silent as he relives that day in his head. 'Kurt asked me to sing with him. And Finn, he told me not to do it because it would, you know, make me look gay.' He smiles nostalgically as he tells Puck about his first encounter with Kurt and how the boy later came to him—while Sam was in the shower—and told him that it was cool if he wanted to sing with someone else.

'And you asked Quinn?' Puck points out.

Chewing at his bottom lip, Sam nods.

Puck nods his head as well. 'That takes balls, you know. To ask _her_.'

'When she was still kind of dating you, you mean?' Sam asks and leans back against the back rest.

The boy with the Mohawk shakes his head slowly. 'No,' he says. 'But because she doesn't let people in. And because to everyone else she is the stuck up bitch who got knocked up in sophomore year.'

'By _you_,' Sam points out and continues to chew his lip.

'Listen, I know that what I did was wrong. I was stupid. But none of that matters anymore . . . not now.' There is sadness and a hint of guilt in Puck's voice that Sam has never heard there before when they have talked about Quinn and Beth.

Sam shakes his head. 'It does.' He glances at Puck. 'She cares about you, you know that. She always will.'

Puck scoffs and cracks his fingers. 'No.' He looks at Sam. 'Not in _that_ way.'

The two grows silent. And it isn't until Puck is getting ready to get up and leave that Sam speaks up.

'What you said to me, you know, at your place. About love. Did your performance have anything to do with _that_?' he asks hesitantly. 'I, uh, I kinda saw how you kept throwing glances at her, you know.'

'For being dyslexic you're not that stupid,' Puck mumbles and chuckles softly before his face turns serious again as he says, 'Yeah . . . but I don't think it changed anything.'

An awkward silence grows between them as Puck focuses his eyes on something far in the distance and Sam fumbles with his hands.

After a moment the blonde gathers confidence enough to speak again as he half whispers, 'You still love her?' It isn't as much of a question as it is a statement. But however it needed to get out there.

A small lopsided smile appears on the Jewish boy's lips as he squeezes his eyes shut for a second and nods. 'You don't just . . .' He licks his lips before continuing. 'You don't just get oversomeone like Quinn Fabray.' Puck glances at Sam. '_You_ should know that.'

From the corner of his eye Puck can see how the blonde boy unintentionally freezes in mid-movement. But instead of confronting him about it he continues to talk quietly. 'Once you get to know her, you kinda realize that she's not the stuck-up bitch that she appears to be.' He chuckles softly to himself. 'She's, uh, she is one of the sweetest girls I've ever been with and well, that say quite a lot.' Puck's list of girl—if stretched out—would probably beat the Chinese wall in length.

As he glances over to Sam again he finds that the other boy is absentmindedly staring into the distance. The look on his face resembles much the one of Puck's younger sister when he told her, a couple of years back, that it is not uncommon for murderers to hide in their victims closets and watch them sleep before they kill them. Back then her face had worn an expression mixed with terror, despair and shame. The shame, Puck notes, in his sister's case most have come from the fact that she hadn't thought of the possibility of a murderer hiding in her closet before her, according to her, not so bright older brother did. The shame in Sam's face though, it had a completely different origin.

'Sam?' Puck queers. The blonde snaps his head in the direction of the voice as if he just now noticed that Puck was still there with him. 'Do you still love her?' The question is innocent and simple put the impact it has, the pain it causes, isn't.

Sam squeezes his eyes shut—much like Puck had done mere minutes ago—and swallows hard.

Denying is much easier when there is no someone asking you questions.


	21. Next to You

Not Making the Same Mistake Again

Summary: Less than four months remain of the school year, for some students it's the last four months at William McKinley High. Therefore it's natural for the kids to want to make the best of the remaining time. However, a lot of things can go wrong in sixteen weeks . . .

Rated Teen for language primarily. There may be some spoilers for the two first seasons of the show as well as the third up until somewhere short after the episode _Hold on to Sixteen_.

I hope you will enjoy reading this multi-character fanfiction as much as I have enjoyed writing it!

I apologize in advance for any incorrect grammar or typo that may occur.

Reviews are very welcome.

Disclaimer: I do_not_ own _Glee_ nor do I own any of its characters. The same goes for anything involving the music mentioned.

End of author's note. Now on to the story!

* * *

_Chapter 21 –Next to You_

[FRIDAY]

It is the last hour of Glee this week and it's the final opportunity to perform the song you have selected for the three week long assignment Mr. Schue has given them.

Blaine and Kurt just finished their version of Alphaville's _Forever Young _and before them Rory sang some Irish pop song that none of the other kids have ever heard before.

As Kurt and Blaine sits back down Sam pads up to Mr. Schuester and tells him that he is ready to show what song he has chosen. The New Direction's coach smiles broadly and leaves the stage to the blonde boy.

As Mr. Schue sits down on the bottom row Sam clears his throat and speaks up. 'Mr. Schue, I know that this week's assignment was to find a song from the 80's,' Sam licks his lips. 'But I have another one that I would like to sing.' He glances at the rest of the class before he looks back at his teacher and quickly he adds, 'If that's cool with you.'

Sam eagerly crosses his fingers in hope that some God somewhere might see it and make Mr. Schue say 'okay'. The teacher moves his weight from one leg to the other as he sweeps his eyes over the choir room. He did make it rather clear that this Friday it's songs from the 80's and nothing else. Then his eyes land on Emma, who is staring back at him with pleading eyes. _She's right_, he mumbles to himself and then he turns back to the blonde boy. 'Okay, Sam. Show us what you've got.'

With a toothy smile Sam thanks Mr. Schue before he pads over to the band and tells them what song to play.

Never before has he been this nervous, he notes. Not even when he got to sing _(I've had) The Time of My_ _Life_ at Sectionals, with _her_. He smiles inwardly and takes a deep breath. _Make it or break it, they say. Here we go._

When the beat begins to pump out of the speakers Finn glances at Puck. 'Not Bieber again,' he whines and rolls his eyes.

Puck shrugs. Basically everybody in Glee Club had been in ecstasy when Sam along all the other boys in Glee Club—excluding Finn—had created the Justin Bieber Experience. Why Finn hadn't been too happy with initiative? Well, probably because the ulterior motive with it was to woo Quinn back to Sam.

Sam walks into the middle of the floor when it is time for him to start singing.

_You've got that smile____  
__That only heaven can make____  
__I pray to God everyday____  
__That you keep that smile_

He is blushing slightly as he is singing 'smile_' _and therefore drops his gaze to the floor.

_You are my dream____  
__(You are my dream)____  
__There's not a thing I won't do____  
__I'll give my life up for____  
__Cause you are my dream_

Mike and Puck tune in for background vocals, but remains seated in their chairs. The support from his friends causes Sam to feel a bit more secure and a small smile appears on his face.

_And baby everything that I have is yours____  
__You will never go cold or hungry____  
__I'll be there when you're insecure____  
__Let you know that you're always lovely, girl____  
__Cause you are the only thing that I got right now__  
_

The bridge being his favorite part of the song and the easiest to sing Sam gives in and loses himself in the song. The feeling is amazing.

For the chorus Puck, Mike and Artie do backup vocals again.

_One day when the sky is falling____  
__I'll be standing right next to you____  
__(Right next to you)____  
__Nothing will ever come between us____  
__Cause I'll be standing right next to you____  
__(Right next to you)_

Sam is basically singing the song to every girl in the choir room—or at least that is what it looks like—though the only one he can think of while singing is the blonde one sitting in the first row.

_You have my child____  
__You would make my life complete____  
__Just to have your eyes on a little me____  
__That'd be mine forever__  
_

For the first time during the song he turns his full attention to her. Reaching out and grabbing her hand for a short moment while he sings 'Just to have your eyes on a little me'. He can see that she is blushing and it makes him smile and due to that he almost comes in late for the second pre-chorus.

___And baby everything that I have is yours____  
__You will never go cold or hungry____  
__I'll be there when you're insecure____  
__Let you know that you're always lovely, girl____  
__Cause you are the only thing that I got right now_

His friends in Glee Club are having a hard time to sit still by now, all of them wanting to get up and dance and sing.

_One day when the sky is falling____  
__I'll be standing right next to you____  
__(Right next to you)____  
__Nothing will ever come between us____  
__Cause I'll be standing right next to you____  
__(Right next to you)_

Sam is shoving off some more of his famous dance moves, including some spins and moonwalk and of course the sexy body roll that he learned while working as a stripper.

The show rips down a bunch of whistles and cheers from both the boys and the girls in the room.

_Made for one another______  
__Me and you______  
__(And you and you and you)_

Puck, Mike and Artie once again move in for background singing.

_And I have no fear______  
__And we will make it through_

The music grows lower and Sam begins to move along the first row of chairs. He is constantly glancing back at her, where she is smiling, the blush on her cheeks deepening for every passing moment.

___One day when the sky is falling____  
__I'll be standing right next to you_  


Being back on the floor again Sam shows off some great Chris Brown moves that cause the girls to giggle as he moves into the last chorus. This one he sings with all his emotions showing.

___One day when the sky is falling____  
__I'll be standing right next to you____  
__(Right next to you)____  
__Nothing will ever come between us____  
__Cause I'll be standing right next to you____  
__(Right next to you)_

Also Rachel, Brittany and Tina team up for the background vocals, humming during the last chorus.

_Stand by my side______  
__(Side, side)______  
__When the sky, falls, down______  
__I'll be there, I'll be there____  
_

He walks up to Quinn and takes her hand. With a smile on his lips and glittering eyes he sings the last verse of the song directly to her, emphasizing the last four words.

___You've got that smile____  
__That only heaven can make____  
__I pray to God everyday____  
__To keep you forever_

The music dies out and everybody breaks out in applause. Some of them even standing up and applauding Sam, who is still standing in front of Quinn holding her hand.

As Mr. Schuester rises from his position on the first row and walks up to Sam, the blonde boy lets go of Quinn's hand. 'That, Sam, was very, _very_ good. Or what do you say kids?'

The rest of the Glee Club whistles and cheers.

Mr. Schue glances up at Emma, who is seated at the top row. She is smiling broadly. 'I am really proud of you. All of you,' he says. Then he smiles. 'I think we are done for today kids. See you next week,' he says and pats Sam on the shoulder. 'Once again, good job, Sam.'

'Thanks Mr. Schue,' Sam's response comes. 'See you on Monday.'

The Spanish teacher nods and together with Emma he leaves the choir room and soon after him the rest of the kids go, all of them having other classes to attend to before they can call it a weekend.

'Q, are you coming?' Brittany queers as she passes Quinn and Sam on the way to the door.

Quinn glances at Sam before she answers Brittany. 'Yeah. I'll be right behind you.' Brittany leaves the room, but waits right outside the door.

Sam watches Quinn rise and he smiles at her. 'Sam,' she begins, 'than was . . . that was really sweet.' She licks her lips nervously.

'Q?' Brittany hollers from outside the classroom.

'Just a sec!' Quinn calls back and then she moves toward the door, but she stops just as she is side by side with Sam. She puts a hand on his shoulder and leans in towards his ear. 'Astronomy room after English class,' she whispers and then she leaves. Sam hangs back in the choir room for a few more minutes before he leaves for class.

* * *

'You know what, I'm not going to do this again.'

She looks at him questioningly. There's something in his eyes, something that she hasn't seen there in a very long time.

He continues. 'I am not making the same mistake again.'

_His eyes they are glittering_. She parts her pink lips as if she plans on saying something, but then apparently second thoughts make her change her mind and she closes her mouth again.

He takes a step closer to her. His stomach filled with butterflies – he has not felt like this in a long, long time.

Watching Sam slowly take one short step towards her suddenly brings to her mind the realization when was the first, but also the last, time she saw him act like this. The first time had been in the astronomy room, the day he had asked her to sing with him and the day when he had tried to kiss her. The last time had been out in the school hallway, the day when he had broken up with her. She swallows hard, the movement of her tiny Adam's apple visible, as the thumbing in her chest increases.

Then he smiles that soft goofy smirk of his that got her looking twice at him the day he joined Glee Club for the first time.

'I worship you, Quinn,' he says quietly, his voice barely stronger than a whisper, but it's loud enough for her to hear it perfectly. And what it does to her is beyond describable. It makes her knees soften, her heart beat faster yet slower at the same time and there is something more . . . it touches something, something deep inside. Something that's been broken and incomplete for so long.

Her heart.

His smile widens as he catches a reaction in her enchanting hazel irises. He leans in closer to her, crooking his neck just a tad. Then he brings his right arm up, smoothing her cheek with his slender fingers as he brings her face closer to his.

She can feel her pulse intensify, her heart almost beating out of her chest. What Sam does to her, to her body, is beyond comprehensible to her. Never before has she felt quite like this. Not with Finn, not with Puck, not with any other boy.

She parts her lips slightly, her brain in need of all the oxygen it can get to keep her from overheating.

The distance between them is close to nonexistent. She can almost feel his breath on her lips. Taste it. And God does it taste good!

He brings their heads together, placing his lips on hers. And it just feels so good. So right.

Her eyes drift close at the sensational feeling and she can feel his heart beat under her palm.

When Quinn doesn't pull away Sam deepens the kiss, allowing his tongue to explore the previously oh so well-known territory of her mouth. And, man, does it feel nice! Amazing!

He absentmindedly brings his other hand to the small of her back, pulling her closer. _She's so thin, now. So tiny._ Meanwhile he is lowering his other hand, caressing its way to the smooth and hot skin of her neck.

As air becomes an issue for the both of them, he reluctantly pulls away and gazes down into her eyes. He has always been aware of the effect those caramel orbs have on him, but never before has he felt this overwhelmed and swept away by looking into them. They are slightly moist, causing them to glitter even more.

'I love you, Quinn Fabray,' he whispers softly as his lips curl up into yet another of his adorable and characteristic smiles.

That those three words "I love you" could have such an impact Quinn could never have believed if anyone had tried to tell her, not before this day at least.

She returns his smile with one of her own, though hers is not an adorable and sexy boyish one but one amazingly beautiful girly one. Only her shimmering eyes can match it in beauty.

She giggles gently. 'I love you too, Sam Evans.' She reaches up on her toes and kisses him again, this time though she puts both her arms around his neck, one of her hands finding its way into his hair, twirling the golden locks between her fingers, and brings him as close to her as possible.

* * *

_Glee Club____  
__Auditorium 3 P.M.____  
__Please be there!__  
_

That is what the note on the door to the choir room says in Rachel Berry's neat handwriting.

Though the last hour of Glee for this week ended close to an hour and a half ago, everybody shows up in the auditorium at 3 P.M.

'Why are we here?' Santana asks bored. She is leaning against a chair on the first row in the big auditorium.

'Finn and I,' Rachel begins, 'have noticed that Glee Club is drifting apart. We no longer act as a team, but as individuals that only care about themselves.' A bunch of sarcastic snorts causes Rachel to add, 'And I am not innocent in this either.'

'Therefore,' Finn says, 'have we decided that there will be no solos in our number for this week's assignment. Instead we will all be singing, together, as a team.'

Rachel steps up to Finn's side and takes his hand and she motions for the others in Glee Club to come up on stage and join them.

'Mr. Schue, take a seat and enjoy the show,' Rachel says with a smile and then she motions for the band to start playing.

When the pianist presses down the first couple of keys most of the kids in Glee Club knows what song they are going to sing.

'It's my favorite,' Tina whispers to Mike with a wide smile on her lips.

'I know,' he grins and squeezes her hand.

The light in the auditorium goes out and only the stage is lightened up, the stage on which all the members of the Glee Club is gathered.

Rachel smiles and motions for Puck to take the lead.

_There comes a time when we heed a certain call, _Puck begins before he is joined for the next line by Sam. The two young men's soft voices matching each other perfectly. _When the world must come together as one  
There are people dying, _Sam sings._  
Oh it's time to lend a hand to life, _Blaine continues._  
The greatest gift of all, _the three of them sings together.

We can't go on pretending day by day,

Artie enters._  
That someone, somehow will soon make a change, _sings Rory._  
We are all a part of Gods great big family, _Mercedes full voice tells us._  
And the truth, you know  
Love is all we need, _Artie, Rory and Mercedes joins up and sings together.

Kurt soft voice matches the one of Michael Jackson almost as perfectly as the hand fits the glove.

_We are the world, we are the children  
We are the ones who make a brighter day  
So let's start giving_

Santana smiles broadly as she takes on the following two lines of the chorus, before she is joined for the two last by Kurt._  
_

_There's a choice we're making  
We're saving our own lives  
Its true we'll make a better day  
Just you and me_

Send them your heart so they'll know that someone cares,

Tina's beautiful voice rings out. She is still standing hand in hand with Mike. _  
And their lives will be stronger and free, _Blaine teams up with Tina, while grabbing her free hand._  
As God has shown us by turning stones to bread, _Blaine sings._  
So we all must lend a helping hand, _Puck shoots in.

We are the world, we are the children,

Finn masters the role of Bruce Springsteen._  
We are the ones who make a brighter day  
So let's start giving, _Artie makes his second appearance in the song._  
There's a choice we're making  
We're saving our own lives_, Sam sings as he puts a hand on Artie's shoulder._  
Its true we'll make a better day  
Just you and me, _sings the former Warbler.

When you're down and out, there seems no hope at all,

Rachel enters the song for the first time._  
But if you just believe there's no way we can fall, _Pack sing and then puts an arm around Mercedes' shoulders._  
Let us realize that a change can only come, _Sugar cries, her voice actually reminding somewhat of Cyndi Lauper's._  
When we stand together as one, _Rachel, Puck and Sugar all warble._  
_

The whole Glee Club teams up for the chorus, all of them standing in the middle of the stage, hugging or holding hands with the one next to them. Mr. Schue cannot help but smile when he sees how far the kids have come. He is proud, like a father of his children._  
We are the world, we are the children  
We are the ones who make a brighter day  
So let's start giving_

As the girls take over for the rest of the chorus the boys form an atmospheric choir in the background._  
There's a choice we're making  
We're saving our own lives  
Its true we'll make a better day  
Just you and me_

All of them sing together.

_We are the world, we are the children  
We are the ones who make a brighter day  
So let's start giving  
_With a smile on his face and his body moving gracefully to the music Mike take tone and sings the rest of the chorus on his own. No longer is he feeling embarrassed about his voice.

_There's a choice we're making  
We're saving our own lives  
Its true we'll make a better day  
Just you and me_

_We are the world, we are the children  
We are the ones who make a brighter day  
So let's start giving, _they all chant before the girls takes over.

_There's a choice we're making  
We're saving our own lives  
Its true we'll make a better day  
Just you and me, _Brittany sings the two last lines at the top of her lunges.

_We are the world, we are the children  
We are the ones who make a brighter day  
So let's start giving, _they all sing together.

_There's a choice we're making  
We're saving our own lives  
Its true we'll make a better day  
Just you and me, _sings Finn.

Sam laughs and runs a hand through his blonde locks before he takes on the first half of the chorus all on his own, his velvety voice fitting the song perfectly.

_We are the world, we are the children _

_We are the ones who make a brighter day  
So let's start giving _

Quinn walks up to him and takes his hand. And as he finishes his part she tunes in and takes over. Her eyes are sparkling as she is glancing up at him. Her hand feeling very small in his, but never before has something felt so right.

_There's a choice we're making  
We're saving our own lives  
Its true we'll make a better day  
Just you and me_

Tina and Puck sing the next chorus. Tina starts off and Puck cuts in when she is finished.

_We are the world, we are the children _

_We are the ones who make a brighter day  
So let's start giving_

_There's a choice we're making  
We're saving our own lives  
Its true we'll make a better day  
Just you and me_

_Awww, _Mercedes wails while raising a hand towards the ceiling. Before she and the rest of the kids tune up together for yet another chorus.

For the final chorus the whole choir teams up. No boys or girls are singing separately, but all of them together, standing hand in hand. William Schuester has never been more proud over someone or more moved by something in his whole life as he is right now. And he cannot help but let a tear of joy escape his eye.

_THE END_

* * *

Author's note,

So this is the last chapter and I hope you have enjoyed the story :)

The two songs in this chapter are _Next 2 You_ by Chris Brown and Justin Bieber and _We Are the World_ by USA for Africa.

It's my first FanFiction story and it's far from perfect, but I feel like I've learnt a lot writing it and I am super grateful for all the Story Alerts and reviews I've received. An extra big thank you goes to **SamEvans17** who's been reviewing almost every single chapter of this story :D

New Story Alert: Another Quinn F./Sam E. story will be posted within the near future. It will take place in the future (right after college) in New York with most of the other characters on the show making appearances. So if you're interested in reading another Fabrevans story or you're really into Faberry and Quintana-friendship stories I suggest you check that one out :)


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